Bunnis

Cornerstone---The Arctic Monkeys

Chapter 10

"You Can Call Me Anything You Want"

_________

Previously…

“I’ll give you some hickeys for believability”

_________

LIAM’S PERSPECTIVE

“I told you that you have competition…” Noel turns around from his position on the passenger side of the car, giving me an I told you so kind of face.

“You talking about the party that kid invited her to? It’s whatever.” My jaw tightens and my confidence strips away, but I build a wall in my mind that blocks any of my disappointment from slipping through the cracks. “I’m not even into her anyway. It's all for–”

“All for the bet?” Bonehead buds in; I nod as he catches my eye in the rear view mirror.  “Right, mate, we’ll see.” He and Noel exchange knowing looks, then both focus on the road ahead. The sun sets with the depressingly grey clouds. I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy; I have no clue why. 

Well, I do. But I don’t want to think about it. I shift the fabric of my jeans between my fingers impatiently while I stare out the window.

“Right, all I’m saying is, why would you beat that blonde boy to a pulp for her if you didn’t feel something, you know what I mean?” Noel says with an airy laugh.

“Because he was a twat, woulda done it for any girl, that.” I shrug.

“Ya, but you proper rocked him. Could’ve just moved her off and been on your way, yeah?”

“Well, the boy had a bird anyways; I said summat about tattling to her, and he made the first swing because of that, yeah? Wasn’t me who started it and it wasn’t even about–.” I stop myself from overexplaining, “Just shut the fuck up.” Noel laughs to himself and mumbles a yeah, whatever. No one speaks for the rest of the way. The faint sounds of the La’s lead us through the streets of Burnage. 

Noel’s flat wrong. I don’t feel anything about her. Not even when she stares at me a bit too long, and her eyes twinkle like the sun reflecting off a pond, or when our shoulders brush if we walk too close and I can feel her welcoming body heat like a fireplace. I don’t feel anything. I don’t search for her every time I step outside like a kid lost in the grocery aisles, or turn my head when someone who wears the same pear-scented perfume passes by. Definitely not.

Right?

No.

But it stings me like a wasp when I’m reminded that somebody else will see her tonight, someone else who isn’t me. Not even close. She’s probably wearing a pretty dress, one that makes her eyes stand out more than they already do. But I won’t see it; he will. But it doesn’t bother me. Not at all. 

I’m sure he’ll gawk at her like some perv. He’ll drool at the way her breasts rise and fall when she laughs too hard or the way she bites her lip when she’s really focused. But maybe not. He’s better than I am, the kind of guy she’s meant to want. The kind of good man who she deserves. He probably picks rubbish up off the streets and feeds the birds in the morning. He probably sets the table for his mum without her asking. What a suck up, am I right?

Maybe she doesn’t like him. She didn’t seem too eager to talk about him to Sarah; usually when girls have crushes, they go wild at the mention of their love interest. They ask every question so that they can create scripts in their head about what to say. But she didn’t perk up; she didn’t twirl her hair like she sometimes does when she daydreams in class, and she didn’t even smile. 

Perhaps she’s just good at hiding her feelings. 

_________

I can't get a wink of sleep. I can't stop thinking about her all prettied up at whatever no-fun party she’s attending. I’d much rather be there making sure no one touches her and walking her home than in my bed dreading what boys may be trying to make passes at her. I have to keep her available and wrapped around my finger enough to kiss her backstage at that stupid festival.

What am I doing? 

Am I actually fucking serious? 

All this over fifteen quid. 

Am I joking myself?

I realise at this moment that it’s all very stupid. That this bet is elementary in nature, but maybe I really want it to happen. Perhaps I just started this all because I knew I would get to kiss her. After all, it may just simply be what I want. Maybe it was never about the money. The draw I have to her, and my need to keep her away from other guys comes from a desire to have her for myself, not just to make sure I can have her when I need to use her.

Nah, that’s dumb. 

I peek at the clock through my endless thoughts: 11:30 pm, the hour of sappiness and clouded judgement. That’s just what this is, just some late-night emotions. 

I can hear the house settle as I try and doze off, ridding her from my memory.

I think of all the routes I take to get to school in the morning, but then I remember stopping in the corner shop to get her that nail polish.

Whatever, next topic.

I think about how much I have to save up and how I’ll get the money for my next adidas purchase, but then I think about folding my jacket and setting it under her tear-stained face so that she could sleep comfortably on the church bench.

I’ll try something else.

I think of all the cool parties I can throw when I get famous, but then I just think about the party she’s at.

That was a shit topic, wasn’t it? Proper stupid of me to even think of that.

I force myself to forget all night. I feel like a dog left whining at the door, with its head resting on the hardwood, waiting for its owner. I just want to make sure she’s okay. I know it’s some dumb, no-fun party, but bad luck seems to have followed her recently, and I need to cushion her fall.

I just hope that if she gets cold, he gives her his jacket. 

_________

LIAM’S DREAM

My vision goes from black to warm light, an old apartment with a large window which is slightly askew. It lets cold air pour in, which brings with it the scent of pear, one that I could recognise anywhere. I turn around slightly to see a small kitchen with an island that I lean against. Next to me is a couch and a pretty potted plant, a bonsai tree that sits on a coffee table.

Immediately, I run over to the window, peeking out of the frosted over glass, pushing the pane out farther. There she is, her hair blowing while she looks out on a city. The streets are all empty, only orange-lighted street lamps making any kind of visibility of freshly made puddles. It must’ve just stopped raining, the clouds must have known she was outside. Her soft giggle plays at my ears as she turns to face me. 

“What are you doing here?” She smiles kindly, “You here to see me?” I nod, unable to speak as I notice what she’s wearing. A completely white, sheer robe. One that you would see an old movie star wearing. It flows slightly open, revealing a bit of her collarbone. I bite my lower lip, trying to suppress myself from saying anything I might regret. She just stares at me, with a glint in her eye cast from the full moon. I take it all in.

“C’mon,” I say softly.  I extend my hand to her, palm up. She takes it and I feel the heat of her. 

Almost as good as the real thing. 

Feeling her fingers solidifies that this is only fantasy, I know this is a dream. Her fingertips are much softer in person. But If I say anything, I know It’ll snap me out and I’ll just wake up again. So I have to keep quiet.

I pull her to her feet and lead her inside. Without another word I brace my hands on her waist, pulling her in to try and melt her body into mine. She presses her lips to mine, slowly running her hands through my hair. I give a small bite to her lower lip, a small moan escapes her mouth. I feel like I am climbing up the stairs of heaven.

One of her hands snakes down to my length, which twitches slightly in my pants. Her palm sliding gently but with just enough pressure to make me want to rip her in half. But I have to be gentle with her, I don’t want to scare her away. I pant slightly and grab her wrist as she guides herself over me. 

“Right there… fuck yes…” I breath out into her slightly parted lips, my eyes forcing closed in pleasure. 

After staying there for a while, and reconnecting our lips, she removes her hand and slithers up to hold my face in her palms. I lift her, her legs straddling me as I move to lay her on the couch. The wind whistles in my ears.

We kiss like this for a while, me over her, able to take in her features under the minimal light. No matter how deep I kiss her, though, I just don’t feel complete. I am too aware that this is a dream. I wish it were real more than anything. I wish I could make her feel this good for real.

I start kissing her neck, slow and deep, then I nibble at the skin. She whines and digs her nails into my back; one of her legs wraps around my waist to bring me down closer. Her hips buck up slightly; I put one of my hands under her to lift her just enough, allowing her to grind into me.

But then I get to it, a rosary. Red and gold beads slung across her chest. I try to move it with my fingers, but it sizzles at my touch. I wince in pain, noticing pale red marks on my hand. I meet her eyes, worried and needy. Her breathing quickens; she pushes herself backwards to sit up.

“I hurt you. I hurt you, didn’t I?” She’s panicked. I shake my head quickly, my brows knotting. 

“No, no, no… no babe, it was just the necklace. It’s okay, it only hurt for a second, sweet girl.” I move, kneeling by the couch; she slings her arms over my shoulders and cries into the crook of my neck.

“I’m sorry, I ruined it. I knew I would.” She sobs; I pet her head, placing a small kiss on the top of her hair. Then she starts to feel cold; her skin emits a white light. I shift backwards to look at the scene.

She shakes her head, tears falling down her cheeks. I try to wipe them, but my hand moves through her like a ghost. Her mouth moves to speak, but I can’t hear a word. She’s fading away from me.

And I can’t do anything about it.

END DREAM.

_________

My alarm screams like a banshee, and I drag myself from my bed to turn it off, my feet lazily hitting the floor. I’ve had to move the clock to a place unreachable from my bed, because otherwise I’ll just keep hitting snooze and not go to school at all. I feel bogged down; I can’t really remember much of my dream, but it’s left me feeling confused, sad, and rather unsatisfied with whatever it was. 

My body goes on autopilot to get ready, my uniform freshly clean from the laundry basket Mum left in my room, folded ever so nicely. It smells like washing powder, which makes me feel girlish. That doesn’t bother me too much, though. Always been in touch with my feminine side, I like to think.

 I’m not hungry, so when I eventually make it down the stairs and see my breakfast waiting for me, I decide against eating it. My Mum gives me a sad, confused look whilst I slip out the door silently, throwing my bag over my shoulder on the way out. I think that the whole block can sense that I’m miserable. One of my school friends, Jamie, trots his way over. He’s about my height, but sports long headbanger hair. Looks off his head, really.

“Fuck are you so moody for?” I snap my head to face him; I’m sure giving him a bit of a scare with how deep my eye bags are. My usual half-lidded eyes appear much more sleepy, so he winces when I turn. “Yikes, mate.”

“Just couldn’t sleep, y’know.” We stop at the bus pickup area, tons of people already gathered around.

“Did you and your bird get in a fight for summat?”

“What? No.” I roll my eyes, “She’s not my bird neither, so shut it.”

Jamie half laughs, “Yeah, just by your attitude, man, I can tell I’m right. Something happened…” He gets quiet, and then more sincere, “You can tell me, mate, you know I won’t judge ya. I got a soft spot for my misses too.”

My front breaks a little, but I can’t face the empathy in his eyes, so I watch ants walking on the sidewalk below me, “She went to a party last night, just couldn’t stop thinking about her, y’know what I mean? Like, we’re nothing serious or anythin’, but she could be there chatting it up with some bellend, and I wouldn’t even know.” I let out a sigh, “Dunno, like I said she’s not my bird so it’s none of my business.”

“Nah, I get it, s’okay man.” He gives me a quick side hug, and we step over to the bus's door, boarding quickly, “Tough until you lock it down with a label; until then, it's a game of keep-off with all the other lads that fancy her.”

_________

Everyone on the bus is too loud; when are they not? Even my friends are pissing me off, and those wankers won’t stop asking about the “fit bird” I was fighting for yesterday. They tease me about how I could have any girl in the school, but I chose the most uptight religious chick around. Jamie tries his best to quiet them, but it doesn’t work too well.

I settle into my seat, sinking deeper into the not-so-comfortable cushions. I was able to score the window seat today; I take advantage of it by playing my Walkman and slipping in my cassette of Rubber Soul. I close my eyes, imagining every song like cartoons in my head until Jamie slips next to me.

“So, tell me about her then.” I shift one side of my headphones off the ear he’s closest to, then think for a second. I feel a little scared, but he’s a nice kid, so I know he’s not going to hold it over my head later.

“I mean, I havent known her very long, right, but…” I think of all the things I can say, but they don’t seem to end. 

Where do you start when you’re talking about someone who makes you speechless?

“She’s kind of uptight, I’m sure you could sense. But in like, a funny way. She’s got spunk, you know what I mean? She’s always really sweet to everyone, but not too sweet. She can take a joke and that. She’s also mad smart. When I decide to show up to school, I always peek at her work to know what answers to put, she sometimes moves her paper so I can see better. She’d been helping me out like that before I even really knew her, at the beginning of the year before I stopped showing up entirely… She’s the reason I came back actually. And she’s real gorgeous, sometimes I have to tear my eyes away because I look at her for too long. I don’t think she notices, though. Or at least I hope not, that’d be embarrassing I reckon.” I let an exhale of breath out my nose, in a kind of laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about her to someone like this before, or myself even.

“How’d you meet her?” Jamie smiles.

“Her brother, he’s a backup for our bass player, so I’d seen her a few times around. Always thought she looked nice, and she is. But, I can’t really do much because… well, that’s my mates sister. He’s real intimidating so I didn’t want to test my luck.”

“Right, right.” Jamie agrees lightheartedly with a small laugh. 

“Yeah so, anyways, her and I met up a few days ago because we just happened to be in the same place at the same time and now I see her like every day. I save her a lot from whatever shit her life has been putting her through. Swear to god somethings in the air, she just can’t catch a break.” I smile, reminiscing. I think about how I held her in my arms while she cried on the floor of the church. Her small sniffles turning into soft snores. 

What I wouldn’t give to lull her to sleep once more.

“She sounds well, Liam.” Jamie gives me a caring pat on the back, and we come to an abrupt stop at the school. We all shuffle off, shouting our thank-yous to the bus driver.

I rub my eyes and run a hand through my hair, trying to wash off any tired aura that my body holds onto. I subconsciously search for the girl that has enveloped my brain for the past few days, the one I just can’t seem to usher out of my thoughts. Then I see her, glowing as she talks to Sarah at the front gate. They sit together on the large concrete planters outside; immediately, I can feel a swift wind knock the weight off my shoulders.  

“What’s happening here?” I position myself in front of the girls, partially blocking the sun. They pause, and a suspicious smile creeps onto Sarah’s face. One that makes me feel a little nervous, if I’m honest. My friend looks a bit scared too, tugging impatiently at the ends of her hair.

“Nothing much,” She replies, gathering her hair casually to one side of her shoulder. This makes my eyes wander to her collarbone; that’s when I see it. Three deep purple-ish red marks paint her perfectly soft skin. Her red-and-gold rosary hangs from her neck, creating an ironic image of lust.

_________

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

The colour drains from Liam’s face, in an almost unnoticeable way. But I notice it. He was already walking over rather depressed, and I fear that I might have just made his morning worse. No one really wants to see hickeys all over their friend's neck; it’s quite a weird feeling. I would know; Sarah walks around with them often, and it makes me shudder. I told her she’s got to quit it, because it makes me really uncomfortable. She just says it shows that I’m taken so the lads don’t mess with me.

I pretend to braid the hair that I’d gathered over my shoulder, trying to distract myself from the situation I half-created. He forces a tight smile and laughs, in a small painful way.

“Have a little bit of fun last night, yeah?” His eyes look sad, despite the playful tone in which he speaks. Sarah lights up, ready to execute the script that she had prepared in her head all morning. 

“Yup, that Andrew kid, he was all over her! I tell ya, pinned down on the couch and all that, I had to rip him off of her like a WrestleMania referee. Told her it was time to go–”

“Right.” Liam silences Sarah. “Well, have a good one then.” A small nod and a silence carries him as he walks away. I feel a deep ache, one that's followed with nausea and guilt. My breath quickens, and I look at the girl to my left, who smiles widely with a proud glint in her eye.

“See, told ya he liked you.” I shake my head, closing my eyes tight and bringing my knees to my chest. I clasp my hair at the roots and feel every emotion I think I’ve ever felt. “Hey, what’s wrong?!? It worked, he likes you!!” She places a hand on my shoulder that I quickly shrug off.

“He’s probably just having a bad morning. I just made it worse by flaunting my stupid fake hickeys…did you see how uncomfortable he looked?” 

Sarah rolls her eyes and scoffs, “C’mon, that’s so untrue, and you know it. He likes you, and he’s just sad he wasn’t the lad that gave those to you! He’ll get over it.” She stands up, and the bell rings blaringly to alert us to go to class.

“I don’t know, I still don’t know if he does. That wasn’t any kind of confirmation to me. But, if he did, wouldn’t this make him think I’m like… off limits or summat?” My brow knots and I quicken my steps, something I do when I’m blaringly nervous. 

“Trust me, this will make him want you more. Boys want what they can’t have. And you’ll have him—” We walk past Liam’s friend group; I catch his eye. For the first time, instead of holding eye contact, his gaze drops and meets the floor. Sarah looks at me, smiling like the Grinch, and pulls me closer to her. She puts her right pinkie finger up, using the pointer finger on her other hand to make a wind-up motion around it. Wrapped around your finger. She mouths, finishing her sentence while trying to remain low-key as we pass through the halls.

We head up the stairs, while some of the kids in our year eye me up. I undo my braid and re-cover my neck. God, why did I agree to this? I silently pray that everyone will just leave it alone, that they would fade by the time I get to my class. Maybe this is all punishment from god; I shouldn’t be hanging around boys, especially ones that make my heart jump sometimes. I make a mental note to myself to remember my prayers tonight, something I have been severely lacking on since my life has been kind of falling apart around me.

I sigh and tug Sarah by her jacket into the classroom; she almost misses the door because she’s looking through the crowds for Andrew. She’d told me earlier that we have to get him in on this; she has a point, but I feel bad about it. On one hand, we must not blow our cover, and the only way to protect ourselves from this would be to tell Andrew about our plans so that if Liam asks, our story has an alibi. On the other hand, I’m scared that it’ll hurt his feelings because we are using him for some fucked up mind games and he does have a crush on me. 

When she was trying to convince me, Sarah said: I think he’ll be thankful; if anything, it’ll give him some rapport with all the girls. Make him look like he gets play and that. But, of course, I said: it’s still an asshole move. 

Unfortunately, there isn’t much going back now. 

Sarah and I sit in our adjoining desks while the rest of the class files in, the tardy bell about to ring. I can see one of the more popular girls in school, Claire, circling about the room, specifically ignoring my best friend and me. Sarah and Claire really got into it over the summer, because Sarah couldn’t help herself and tried out Claire’s older brother, if you know what I mean. Since then, it’s not really been a very peaceful front.

Claire has a stack of invitations in her hands; all of the envelopes are pre-named and wax-stamped shut. Quite fancy, even for her. This intrigues the friend to my left, who loves to tease.

“Got one for me?” Sarah says, sweetly-sarcastic. The fact that they despise each other makes lessons more interesting. Always a bit of sly banter here and there. 

Without even looking through her stack, Claire smiles, “Doesn’t seem I do. What a shame, right?” She peeks at my collarbone; her eyes widen a bit and then her face twists in minuscule disgust, “Got bored of whoreing yourself out, did you, Sarah? Had to get your friend in on it too?” I roll my eyes and bury my face in my hands, embarrassed. 

“At least she’s getting any,” Sarah rubs my back, “still in that dry spell, are you?” 

“I dunno, ask your dad.” 

“Couldn’t stand to be more original?”

“Nah, don’t have time fer it. Got invites to pass out.”

They both sneer at each other; Claire walks away, peeking out into the hall. A familiar boy stops when she calls, 

“Oi! Liam come’re!! Take one, tonight at half past seven.”

He takes it, giving a quick cheers and then returning back to his weighed-down walk. I’m still not fully convinced that he likes me, even with his depressed reaction. Because why would he choose me over all the other girls at school? I mean, even just the girl who handed him the invite. Claire has long, straight, shiny brunette hair and the most gorgeous (and probably most expensive) fake tan I’ve seen. That’s much more the type that all the other boys in the music scene would prefer over some girl who wears a rosary and Mary Janes. 

_________

LIAM’S PERSPECTIVE 

I throw on a pair of my favourite jeans and search through my closet. I’m looking for my favourite navy blue adidas jacket, but I can’t find it anywhere. Fuck me. The day’s just shit. 

I got invited to a birthday party by some bird who eyes me in the halls; she’s never really grabbed my attention because she’s too full of herself. I know it may seem hypocritical, but she’s really bad about it. And Christ, is she mean. But I’m going so that I can get my head right, distract my thoughts. 

I run my fingers through my hair. I can't believe that shithead gave her hickeys. I put on my second favourite dark green parka. I can't believe he touched her. I head down the stairs. He doesn’t deserve to touch her. I put on my shoes. She’s not his, right? 

Fuck man.

This girl’s place isn’t too far from mine, but I am getting there a bit later than the invite suggests. I never like showing up to parties early; they’re always so awkward. As I approach, I see cars lining the streets, letting me know that I’m getting close. Bright lights shine from inside the last house on the corner. 

My mates greet me at the door, surprised they were all invited, to be honest; they don’t really know the gal. To be fair, neither do I. Immediately, a beer is shoved into my hand. Also immediately, Claire is showing me around. It’s packed, sweaty, and loud. Exactly my kind of place, but my head is still spinning. A sickly feeling has followed me all day. 

“So help yourself to any of the food, uhm, bathrooms over there…” Claire leads me around, a firm grasp on my wrist, “if ya need anything… let me know, okay?” Her voice is sultry, but I’m not having it. I look around casually, refusing to meet her eyes that beg for mine.

“Kay. Thanks.” I tear my hand away and make my way back to my friends, who have already begun to sway like sailors. Their conversations revolve around all the girls at the party, but I’m searching for one specifically; she seems to be the one girl not invited, though. Her and Sarah.

There’s no trace of her, except one girl who stands in the corner; she looks like her if you squint. And so I do. It works for a second, maybe less than that. Jamie hits my arm with the back of his hand, grabbing my attention. I lean in carefully so I can hear him through the booming music and attendees.

“Did you have a makeout sesh with your missus during lunch?” I’m taken a bit aback by his question.

“No, why do you ask?” I shake my head.

“Oh… I just… the hickeys on her neck. Thought you may have done that.” His voice drops into a disappointed register. I stay still and quiet, dragging a hand down my face quickly as to wipe away my feelings.

“Nah. Wasn’t me.” My mates go on chattering; for the first time in ages at a party, I am completely quiet. I down the beer in my hands, some kind I’d never had before. Doesn’t taste too good, but if it’ll make me forget, I’ll drink it.

I grab another beer out of a cooler by my feet. My eyes follow this near-doppelganger I had spotted earlier for the rest of the night; I keep pretending that it’s the girl I had actually been looking for. The more I think of her, the more I drink. The more I drink, the foggier my vision gets. The foggier it gets, the more this imposter starts to look like her. 

I think of how she held my face, inspected me so gently. The way her thumb brushed the blood off my bottom lip, and how badly I wished to kiss it. Innocently, just to see how she might blush. Thinking of this makes my dream from last night appear in my head, one that I hadn’t remembered in the morning but has appeared in my memory somewhere between the last two beers. I replay the sensation of slipping her skin between my teeth and leaving visible ownership all over her. I thought about the way she moved beneath me, the little noises she made, the way her hands slid into my hair. 

Then I think of the hickeys that were on her neck when I woke up. A quiet anger builds in my heart. Now I know she isn’t mine, which makes me ache. 

I look back at the girl in the corner. She’s not the girl who wears a rosary and scuffed-up Mary Janes, but she’ll do. I whisk myself to her and approach with no caution. Hoping that maybe by the time I get there, she’ll turn into who I need her to be.

“You here with someone tonight?” I lean against the wall, looking down at her shorter stature.

“Nah, trying to get my mind off the someone, actually.” A reminiscent smile paints her face, sad in nature. Her answer was strikingly vulnerable, but it didn’t bother me.

I pause and look down at my shoes. “Me too.” I gaze back up to meet her eyes.

“How long were you with her?” Her tone is soft and genuine. A bit of a sensitive question to ask in the middle of a party, and especially within only a few seconds of meeting someone. But it makes me think.

 The truth is I haven’t really known her long, a week at most. But I’ve been watching her for much longer. Ever since I caught a glimpse of her sleeping so sweetly, listening to her CD player. I will never forget the way I had to hold myself back from getting a closer look, from staring for too long. Or when I saw her getting ready for the dance, hurrying around the house while Noel called Ellis. She scoffed at my joke, and it made me want to tell her more, just to get her reaction. Even when she’s annoyed at my presence, I can’t help but want to stay with her for so much longer. I wait for my opportunities when I can show up for her and make her see that I can be there when she needs it. 

“Not long at all.” I finally answer; she nods and sighs. “How about you?” I ask, not really caring too much about the answer.

“Too long, but not long enough.” She stares into her choice of drink. 

“What ended it?” It might be rude to ask, but I’m feeling tipsy and emotional, and I think she is too.

“We were together for a year and a half, and never once said he loved me.” I wince at her answer and shake my head in disappointment.

“M’sorry about that…” The conversation ends, but our eyes stay locked. Something dark washes over both of us while we take in each other’s features. She paints her hand down the side of my face.

“You look a bit like him.” Her voice comes out silky.

I say something I might regret,

“You look a bit like her.” 

I tilt my head slightly to the side, and then I squint. Just a bit, just enough to make her face obscure. She was close. But, her perfume isn’t pear, it’s cherry. Her hair is too long, but if she threw it in a ponytail, I wouldn’t notice. Her hand was soft, but I didn’t feel the need to lean into her touch. 

She watches how I react as she inches closer. Then she places her palms on my chest. I feel a twinge of guilt that I quickly ignore.

She tugs me down by my shirt, the taste of different types of alcohol on both of our mouths mixing aggressively. I trace my hands down her waist, imagining someone else’s body. She pulls me into a guest room; I let out a huff of air while she pushes me onto the bed, rough and eager. But before she goes in for more, I stop her with a hand to her collarbone, which I slide up to her jaw.

Chapter 9

“Jealousy”

_________

Previously…

“She’s not really my type.”

_________

LIAM’S PERSPECTIVE 

“It was nothing.” I snap back at the Bonehead. I can’t see him, since he’s at the end of our scooby doo-esque line, but I know he’s making some sort of shit-eating face at me. “I just was in her room once.” I fear my answer may be too vague, but if I tell them I watched her sleep for a bit like a creepy stalker, that might make the situation sound even worse.

“I thought she was like… heavily catholic.” Noel comments, “You didn’t hook up with her, did yo–”

“No.” I swipe his words out of the air with my own, stopping our line abruptly. Everyone goes silent and still. Replying as fast as I did might not have been too convincing. Bonehead lets out a drama-filled sigh and a short disbelieving laugh. “Shut up, the lot of you.”

We all make it to the top of the stairs; they had been arduous to go up, unusually steep. 

“Whatever you say, mate.” Bonehead shakes his head, “... but if you DID, just want to make it clear that you didn’t win the bet. Gotta be making out at the festival, not in her room.”

“I did not hook up with her. Drop it, you gob shites,” I stare at the floor, getting quieter, “and ‘nuff with the bet, right? Don’t want to hear about it.”

“… alright. Ok well, I’m searching through the bathroom first. Let me know when you’re all set.” Bonehead heads into the wide open tiled room while Noel and I make our way to the last door on the left. A closed door across the way echoes a phone call.

“What do you have?” Noel shrugs in reply.

“Dunno, mostly just uniforms and socks,” an eyebrow raises, “and a… stuffed lamb? Did she just get out of primary school?” My eyes immediately capture it as I enter before Noel. A small soft lamb about the size of a Guinness glass sits in the centre of a neatly made bed, partially tucked under the sheets as if it were sleeping itself. A soft smile rises to my lips; the scene is fragile and vulnerable, just like her.

“C’mon, don’t go in on ‘er; ladies are sensitive and such.” I make my way over to the dresser. “Don’t act like you didn’t hold onto your baby blanket a bit later than the other boys. And you loved picking daisies during football, fragile boy you were–”

“Right, that’s enough.” 

We get on with it, a large game of I-Spy taking place in the small room, which has two largely different aesthetics depending on which side you’re staring at. The bedsheets on her side were a cream color, with small pink flowers on the pattern. A bedskirt made of lace lined the bottom, badly covering some stacked CDs that I bet she was trying to hide from her parents.

Ellis had mentioned something about that before, how they had separate collections of CDs for when their parents were and weren’t home. Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath were for devil worshipers.

Above the swirly golden bedframe are a few crosses, two of them holding rosaries that dangle off the wood. One of which I had recognized from that first day in the church, deep red beads with silver and golden accents. I remember it because it matched her nails exactly.

Speaking of, I find an almost empty bottle of the polish on her nightstand. Just enough in the bottle for one more application.  A wave of guilt washes over me when I remember that the one I bought had burst on the floor in front of her. If it wasn’t for that cunt in the green uniform, she would have a replenished stock. 

_________

I’m on my last item, the underwear; I keep my word. I make sure the only time I peek is to see that I got into the right drawer. Balling the nicely folded keks in my hands, I chuck them into the bag, paying no mind to any of the dainty material I hold onto. 

No mind at all.

Not to the lacy bits my fingers catch on, or the bow on one that I had felt the waistband of. 

No mind whatsoever. 

I’m showing a lot of restraint right now. Swear it. My pulse quickens a little bit, despite my efforts to remain calm.

“Got everything?” Noel pats my back as I close the drawer, my face hot as I see a pair peeking out halfway. I quickly tuck it back in and take a breath, which I had been holding unknowingly for a bit too long.

I stay silent.

“Hello?”

“Huh, yeah. Nah, I’m good.”

“Ok, let's get on with it then,” He scoffs as he turns away, “Better not see you slip a pair of her knickers into your pocket.” 

“Shut up.”

_________

We make our way back out to the hall; Bonehead is in distress, standing in the doorway to the bathroom. 

“You alright?” cross my arms and observe his disheveled appearance.

“I can’t find her stupid fucking hair curlers. Not even quite sure what they look like.” Noel exasperatedly clammers over, I’ll help, c’mon, he mutters as he pushes past our friend. This leaves me alone, standing next to the shut door from before. With nothing else to do, I decide to eavesdrop on the conversation that’s still ongoing.

Joan sounds quite upset.

“No, I told you she told them… I’m not lying; why the fuck would I lie… She does know… she's– UGH I’M TELLING YOU– she’s… I’m your twin sister, why aren’t you trusting me?... You believe that little shit?... Nah, don’t be like this. Ellis, what the fuck…” I can hear Ellis chewing Joan out faintly, as she sits and takes it like a kid in the head teacher's office. 

Her voice breaks when it’s finally her turn to speak, “... I didn’t mean to tell them; it just slipped out.”

Silence fills the air; small sniffles occasionally breaking it up.

“Am I still invited to the baby shower?” My jaw drops; I turn my head to see my equally surprised brother and Bonehead. After finding the rollers, I guess they had joined my listening party without me realizing.

With how quiet it had gotten, even I could hear the sharp ring out of the disconnected line. Like when Noel has bits of a song but is stuck on one chord, letting it ring out for what feels like ages until he gives up and moves on to the next tune.

We all make eye contact, nodding quickly once our telepathic communication had reached the collective, agreeing that we should probably get the fuck out of here.

We shuffle awkwardly, but rushed, down the stairs and to the front door.

“Find everything alright, boys?” Our friend's mum asks; we nod silently.

“Bye bye…” the little girl mumbles from behind her mother’s leg. 

“Yep, thanks, we’ll tell your daughter you said hi,” Bonehead speaks for us as we make a semi-mad-dash to the door, closing it tightly behind us.

“Babyshower? What the fuck? Ellis is having a fucking kid?” Noel says in a hushed tone.

“Fucking guess so.” Bonehead says in an almost unbothered way, “I was wondering why we hadn’t seen his bird in a while. Always keeps her locked up in their room…You think our little friend in the car knows?” he takes out his keys, staring down at the vehicle that sits at the end of the driveway.

“Nah, she doesn’t.” I interject, “Best keep it to ourselves, none of our business, you know what I mean. Not our monkeys, not our circus.”

“Yeah, let's mind our own then.” Noel agrees. We break from our standstill positions at the front door, headed to the car.

I think for a second, “Right, but why haven’t we gotten an invite to the baby shower?”

“Oh hush.” Bonehead unlocks the car doors.

Our friend greets us with a wide smile; we all decided not to say anything. She’s a bit put off by this, sinking into her seat, but truly, it’s for her own sake.

Luckily, Noel has the bright idea to blast music so that we can all ignore the elephant in the room.

_________

YOUR PERSPECTIVE 

“That boy called from church, you know, he asked about you again.” Noel and bonehead start oohing and aahing while they and Liam, who doesn't react at all, follow behind me. Sarah is leading us down her almost infinite halls to where I’ll be staying, and the boys insisted that they help bring the bags in. No trouble at all, Noel had told me.

 I think that the lack of trouble comes from the fact that he saw Sarah’s older cousin, who's visiting from Switzerland, reading a book in the foyer; she’s quite a looker.

“What’d he say?” I’m not too eager; a tone of something akin to curious disgust accidentally slips through the cracks of my voice.

“Asked if we wanted to go to a party tonight with the other kids in our youth group.” She pauses and addresses the brothers and their plus one, “It’s one of those no fun kind of parties, so don’t bother. You’ll all be bored to tears.” This boy, his name is Andrew, hails from America. Chicago, to be specific. He is quite the devote catholic from what I hear. He has plans to marry right out of uni, so the clock is ticking for him.

“No booze, I reckon?” Liam snickers, “can’t really call that a party, d’yknow what I mean? More of a… kick back if anything.” He sounds a bit bothered; I suppose to him it’s insulting to call a party with no alcohol a party. 

We finally make it to my room, which looks like a luxury hotel. Everything is pristine; the bed even has hospital corners. I immediately lay down on the comforter, splayed out like a starfish. I’m proper exhausted. 

“Maybe I’ll go… let me shower first, and I’ll let you know what I think, kay?” The boys set down the bags and stand by the door, waiting for Sarah to lead them back out of the maze that is her house. She smiles and nods brightly whilst I prop myself up slightly on my forearms, “Thanks for helping, fellas; I owe you one, yeah?” 

“Nah, no worry at all,” Liam announces on behalf of the group. We lock eyes, and he smiles softly; he’s more polite than everyone says he is, truly. His mum’s done a good job with him.

“Right, let me know if you need anythin’ gorgeous!” And with that, everyone is ushered out of the room. 

Sarah shuts the door extra softly behind her, and I can hear Noel through the walls. 

“Your cousin… what’s her na–”

“She’s engaged.”

“Right. Okay then.”

I can hear their footsteps fade into oblivion whilst I undress and step into the pink-tiled shower, the first one I’ve had in a bit. I felt absolutely disgusting, surprised they didn’t roll down the windows on the car ride. I’m scared I reek.

 I have an ensuite bathroom all to myself, wonderful, with those pretty girl hair products I was so excited for, score. The theming is utterly 70s, baby pink mermaid themed, which I don’t mind at all. The golden sun comes in from a small window over the shower, which causes this pretty sunset-ish hue to reflect from the tiles.

While the warm water washes over me, I start weighing my options for the night. I don’t know if I’m really in the mood to be at an uptight-type-party. Though I don’t partake, I find that get-togethers that don’t have any sinful indulgences tend to go stale. I like to sit back and watch everyone get hammered and loose; people get a lot nicer and actually want to talk to peers they’ve never really talked to before. What is this party even for? Are we going to recreate the Last Supper or summat?

I don’t know, I think I’ll stay in.

Sarah and Ellis have been trying for ages to get Andrew and me together. I’m not allowed to date until I’m in University. However, Ellis says I need to have one relationship that I hide from my parents; it’s a rite of passage in his eyes. He tells me Andrew is sweet and cute enough, so he’s the perfect test run. And Sarah had told me you’d look dead hot next to him, because he’s medium-cute and you’re cute-cute. So like, you’ll outbalance the scale and look even hotter. I don’t know what fucking nonsense she’s on about.

_________

“I think Liam likes you.” I freeze whilst reaching for the microwave handle; My heart beat quickens, and I feel sick. Not nauseous, a different kind. Nervous sick, like when your mom calls for you and uses your middle name.

“Sorry?” I respond in disbelief. Sarah laughs while she inserts a VHS of ‘Three Amigos’ into her TV. After I got out of the shower, she suggested we watch a movie that night. I knew you wouldn’t want to go to the party, so here are our options for tonight. Three Amigos, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, or Sixteen Candles. Every time she goes to the US, she comes back with a fat stack of VHS tapes of popular American films, since they’re a lot cheaper at the video stores there. 

“I don’t think I know any boy who would gather the troops like he did to help a girl out with moving her things across town.” I think about how quickly he agreed to help me, but it’s just a nice thing to do. It doesn’t mean he thinks I’m fit.

“It’s not like that, you know it’s not.” I pour the popcorn I had made for us into a large plastic bowl, tossing it around a bit before munching on some of the lost pieces that fell onto the counter.

“He smiled at you so nicely.” I think about his soft, but partially split, lips and shake my head to get rid of the image. I grin fondly and scoff.

“What? Was he meant to smile at me neutrally?” I go to sit next to Sarah on the couch; she lifts the large throw blanket to let me under as we snuggle up together.

“He stared into your eyes for a bit too long before leaving.” I think about his glacier blue eyes while we both mindlessly dig for the popcorn between us as the intro of the movie plays, the three comedians on screen singing theatrically on horseback.

“No, it was a normal amount of time.”

“He told me he likes you.”

“Go fucking do one.” I roll my eyes; I know she’s lying. She always has this tone of voice she does when she lies, and she always lifts her head a little too proudly. Quite obvious.

“Y’know, I know I said he was cute, but it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you went for him.” She bats her eyelashes; I cross my arms as my cheeks go pink. I try to focus on the movie, but I can feel Sarah’s eyes pinned on me. 

“I don’t think he does. Plus… I’m not allowed to date in my house. Not until I’m like… thirty.”

“Well, you’re not in your house, you’re in MY house.” She gasps excitedly, “I HAVE AN IDEA.” She turns, holding my face in her hands, “and you have to trust me, alright?”

“... what is it…” It’s never anything good when she has an idea. The last idea she had almost set my house on fire. She said that she wanted to try smoking, but she didn’t want that yuckie tobacco taste, so she stole roses from the church’s garden and decided to smoke those.

“When boys like you, they get really jealous, right?” She expects an answer from me, but I just shrug.

“I’m really the wrong person to ask, Sarah.” She huffs and then continues,

“Well, they do.” She stands up, running over to the TV, pausing the film. “So, what if we pretended that you did go to the party and that you snogged Andrew? I’ll give you some hickeys for believability. Then, we’ll see how Liam reacts.”

“Absolutely not–”

_________

Sarah gnaws at my skin while I watch the movie, “Don’t get too much slobber on me; you’re like a bulldog.” I hear her laugh against my skin. Then she bites down harder.

“OUCH”

“How’s that for a bulldog?” She dabs her oversized sleep shirt over the marks she’s made, removing any spit.

She pulls away and admires her work, “Wow. I’m just marvelous. Look at that.” She pulls out a compact mirror from her purse that she keeps on the coffee table and hands it to me with a bright smile. She looks like a proud mother watching her firstborn graduate.

“Oh god. What will all the boys think?” I shove the mirror back into her hands and bury my face in the blanket. 

Chapter 8

“Help from friends”

_________

Previously…

“D’ya have a secret second brother or summat?”

_________

The boys were still, like they’d been caught red-handed. Which they had been. Not so much Noel, but definitely Liam.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew where he was?” Liam and Noel stare at each other. Who's gonna tell her? They say with their eyes. “I’m not mad. I just want to know.” I tap anxiously on the glass table in front of me, revealing my true feelings. I am a little upset, actually, but I don’t want to make them feel bad. Their gazes flicker back and forth, searching for some kind of excuse or answer within each other's minds. Liam decides to speak up first, taking a deep breath in and stretching,

“God told me not to tell you.” I send him a gaze that could cut through glass. Noel kicks him once more under the table, and Liam reaches over me to give him a small slap on the arm, leaving his brother outraged. He collects himself before he speaks,

“We just… we didn’t know anything other than the fact he was proper pissed at you. Didn’t want to get involved, I guess.” Noel remarks, an acceptable enough answer for me. “But you lot are all patched up now, yeah?” he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I think. Maybe,” I let out a sigh, “We’ll see if he shows back up again.” Liam looks ever so guilty next to me; he was the one who really lied to me. Noel had just kind of been leaving it alone, didn’t have much of an opportunity to say anything anyway, because I hadn’t really seen him a whole lot. 

Liam had told me straight to my face that he hadn’t seen him around either, just a few nights ago in the church. Lying in the Lord's house, how sinful. Would expect nothing less, though. Maybe I should invite him to confession, between the cigarettes and street fights, I’m sure there’s a lot of Hail Marys he has to catch up on to get right with the big G.O.D.

“M’sorry,” Liam says in an almost unnoticeable frequency, “I shouldn’t have lied… that’s my bad. Just didn’t wanna really–y’know— insert meself or nothin. If there’s something I could do to make it up–”

“There is.”

_________

I had told them about what I needed. My dad is still home this week, not sure if he’s home right now, but just in case, I needed bodyguards to help me gather my essential belongings from my room. I’m sure if I showed up alone, I would have a big storm coming for me. 

We first stop at a phone, so that I can ask Sarah for a room in her grandiose house. The boys look through their wallets for coins so that I can dial Sarah up. Noel pulls out a few and drops them in my hand. Liam just hands me a slab of gum and places it in my open palm,

“S’all I’ve got.” My brows raise as I stare up at him, peeved. “Well, it’s better than nothing, ain’t it? Go pawn it off to some street dweller, get yourself the rest of the money.” He jokes. My serious expression breaks, a lazy smile appearing while I face the phone, giggling at his offering. He watches me, digging his hand in his pocket. 

I start sliding the coins in when Liam comes to stand behind me, going over my shoulder to put some in himself. His voice warms my ear, “Only joking.” I feel my face go a bit red as I shake my head. I turn around to push him off of me playfully, eliciting a laugh that makes my stomach flutter. I distract myself by quickly typing on the keypad.

Ring, ring–

“Carnegie house! Sarah speaking,” her sweet voice travels through the receiver.

“Hey sweet thang…” I deepen my voice to try and sound manly, but I break character, chuckling a bit just as she does on the other side of the line

“Hey, babes, what you want?” My mood drops as I’m reminded of why I have to make the call. My eyes drop to the floor as I kick a rock on the ground and lower my voice.

“Needa place to stay, dad’s kicked me out.” I hear her sigh longingly. Noel and Liam start chatting about Man City as they stare at a poster near the payphone on a large brick wall, hushed enough so they can’t be heard.

“Poor girl, course, I’ll have me mam prep the room across from mine. You need the new address?” 

“Yep, thanks...”

I cover the mouthpiece and look up, and to my right, where Liam still looms. He’s turned slightly, pausing from lighting a cigarette, “Need summat?” I mouth, A pen? He nods and unzips my backpack, which I’ve been carrying around all morning now. The cigarette hangs from his lips as he hands over the writing utensil.

“Right, I’m ready for ya,” I bite the lid off, scribbling on my palm. Thank god for Sarah.

_________

I tell them about the window-breaking story as we mosey our way down the street to bonehead’s place. It’s our next stop, as Noel suggested we could finesse him into being our ride.

As I recalled and recounted the story, a fear grew in my chest. It glows like a fireball, making every word burn. I still remember what it was like being backed into a corner. I have nightmares about my dad kicking up glass around me, screaming about how unholy it would be to chop my hair just a few inches. Look at all the skanks about the street these days, you’ll look just like them. A bit overdramatic if you ask me. But hey, at least I got my haircut. 

While I go on, I play with my dead ends. Trying to act casual, as if I’m not recounting the day my world almost fell apart. Liam grows softer with every new detail. His eyes were stuck to me, intently, watching the way I tried to skew the words that were said that night, so as not to make them sound as serious as they were. They traveled down my body, watching which parts of me fidgeted, and moving his gaze to my mouth as I attempted to add some humor to the situation. He doesn’t laugh, which is rare for him; his brows grow heavy with concern.

 He just listens, no jokey statements or anything of the sort, the same with Noel. I had a feeling that maybe they knew exactly what I was feeling. The fear I felt as I imagined having to see my father in such a state again. So, it didn’t take much convincing at all to get them to stand guard and move my life over to Sarah’s house for the time being.

Knock Knock Knock

Liam pounded on the door to Bonehead’s flat, which quickly flew open, a welcoming smile adorning the face of their bandmate. He’s always been a nice boy to me, my brother says he’s his favorite. Last time Bonehead went to the convenience store for a rehearsal at our house, he brought me back a Dr Pepper. Isn’t that sweet?

“Well, hello lads,” his eyes fly to me, standing with my head down at his doorstep, “what’s all this?” 

“Right here’s the deal: the girl needs a car to bring her stuff to her friend's house. You think you can borrow your dad’s car or summat again?” Liam explains as Bonehead leans against the doorframe. He nods and thinks to himself for a moment.

“You gonna pay me?” he jokes, asking me directly and squinting his eyes. I blush in embarrassment. I hate having to ask people for help, especially people I don’t know well. 

“I don’t really have a job right now, but maybe I can–”

“I’ll buy you a six pack of them fancy beers you like,” Liam adds.

He perks up like a dog, “Right. Good enough for me.” Liam smiles widely, mighty proud of himself. I motion for him to come closer. He leans down to my level, maintaining eye contact. 

“How you gonna get those?” I whisper, “You’ve got no money either.”

“I’ve got quite a quick hand, me.” I look at him in disbelief, and I mouth Stealing? He makes a cartoonishly innocent face, looking off to the side and tapping his index finger on his bottom lip.

“Jesus wept.” I sigh as he leads me by the small of my back into the house, laughing, following closely after Noel.

It’s quite small inside, but it has a beautiful bay-like window. Liam closes the door behind us as Bonehead grabs the phone that hangs on the wall of his kitchen and starts dialing. I make my way to the couch that faces a remarkably small T.V. set, and the entourage of brothers follows.

“He was meant to give back the car today, wasn’t he?” Noel asks his brother.

“Yeah, but it’s no big thing. We’ll just give him some extra petrol money.” Liam shrugs.

“And by us, you mean me?” Noel questions.

“Yeah, who else?” Liam is almost annoyed by the question, because why would Noel assume any different? Then he scoots closer, closing the distance between us, “So your friend you’ll be staying with, she's the one you were walking next to the other day?”

I nod, “Why are you asking?” He shrugs one shoulder, “Y’know if you wanted to ask her out, you probably could.” The words sting in my mouth. I don’t really want him to take up on that offer, for the sake of Sarah, of course. No other reason.

“Dunno, she’s pretty–”

“She thought you were cute.” His head whips over, and I cover my mouth.

“That right?” he grins, like a douche. 

“Don’t tell her I said anything.” 

“Shit, friend, you are,” Liam chuckles, then takes a second to think about it, “She’s not really my type,” he concludes.

“Nah?”

“Nah. I’m quite picky.”

Noel scoffs, “That’s a dead lie, he’ll hump anything that has a pulse–” Bonehead whips around.

“Right, so, we have ‘round two hours to get this done. Better move fast, yeah?” 

_________

On the way over, the boys and I argue and chat about music. We had all agreed that The Smiths were amazing, though Liam was a bit on the fence. Thought that Morrissey himself was an absolute wanker. Weird one he is, Noel had admitted, even though he’s the one who likes The Smiths the most.

Noel and Bonehead start getting into it about some local manc bands I’ve never heard of, with silly names that sound like one of the members was just trying to smash together two words that had never been spoken in tandem before. I lose interest, looking out the window at the passing buildings. Liam disconnects himself, too, and starts flipping a coin he found between the seat cushions. 

“Heads or tails?”

“Hmmmm… tails.”

“Heads, you have to tell Noel that you don’t like ABBA. Tails, you live to see another day.”

“Is ABBA a death sentence?” I scoff

“Bonehead fucking hates them, thinks they’re a bunch of daisy prancing sparkly freaks. Noel thinks they’re musical geniuses; they’ll go on for hours without stopping.”

“Did you say ABBA?” Bonehead asks, “Shit band, they are.” 

“Fuck you, mate, they’re genius.” Noel spits back

As we pull up to my neighborhood, an aura falls over the block. I tense up, my breath becoming a bit fast and unsteady, and I try to keep my panic quiet. It’s only just driving by and quickly stopping in. No need to be so nervous, it’s just my family. I tuck my hair behind my ear and tell myself to calm down. 

I mindlessly scratch at the middle seat that separates Liam and me. He watches as I nervously bite my lip, and I pick at the skin around my nails. I feel a warm hand rub the back of my shoulder, Liam’s thumb moving up and down slowly. My breath slows, I lean forward and hide my face in my hands.

“Doing okay?” Liam’s voice cuts through the madness in my mind; his eyes are already pinned on mine when I find them. I nod and run my hands through my hair.

“Ya. Ya. Just brilliant.” I force a smile, and Liam removes his hand. Casually looking down and playing with a loose thread on the stitching of his seat.

“Y’don’t have to go in if you don’t wanna.” I remain silent, looking down at my lap. He reaches into his backpack, which Noel had been lugging around for him like a boyfriend at the mall all day. My back hurts from the fighting, can’t carry it… gotta gain my strength back. He pulls out his journal, which is still a bit water-damaged. A dull pencil is handed to me along with a sheet that he had less-than-carefully torn out. 

“Just write down what you need, and we’ll get it for you, you don’t need to leave the car or nothing.” I look at his face, which is lined in nonchalant sincerity. He offers me a quiet smile, his pretty blue eyes soft and caring. I take the pencil, our hands brushing, which I might have done on purpose. I just like feeling his skin; is that such a sin?

I start scribbling down what I need, not including shampoo and conditioner, since I’m quite excited to mooch off of Sarah’s expensive hair care collection. I’ll just lie and say that the boys couldn’t distinguish which products were mine from my sisters'. I stayed over at her place once and used her shower after we swam in her massive pool. I felt like a Barbie fresh out of the box once I stepped out of her bathroom.

I put down some things that were… embarrassing to say the least. I sleep with my stuffed lamb every night, her name is Clemintine. She’s a necessity. The only way I was able to sleep without her last night was the complete exhaustion that hit me.

I put down where to find everything, too, which drawers my socks were in and which pairs to grab. I blush as I list down that I will, in fact, need underwear. Nothing that they haven’t seen before, obviously. But still, it’s just scary to me.

Whilst I finish writing, Liam dumps out the contents of his and my bag. He haphazardly piles the items onto the floor. I scower over at him, catching his gaze, “What? How do you think we’re getting everything in the car? Not just gonna carry it like a fucking waitress.”

I exhale, exasperated, “You’re cleaning that all up.”

He crosses his arms and leans back, “Well ‘course I will. I’m a polite boy, me.”

“Sure,” I reply flatly.

 I re-read my list, feeling so very vulnerable, like one of those dreams where you show up to school naked. I take a breath, “When you grab my keks, just close your eyes, okay?” I hand the paper back to Liam; a light flush appears on his cheeks, which is fast replaced by a sly grin. I can feel the car stop as we pull in front of my doorstep.

“Right, you have my word. I’ll be covering me eyes from the moment I walk in if I must,” He gathers our backpacks and an empty duffel bag, which I assume is usually used to transfer cables and such from gig to gig.

“Are we getting out of the car, or what?” Noel speaks, looking at us through the rear-view mirror. 

“Yeah, just waiting for you lot to stop blabbing on about sparkly Swedish people,” Liam opens his door, “Girl’s staying in the car, though.”

_________

LIAM’S PERSPECTIVE

Bonehead knocks on the door. We had decided to send him in first since he looks the toughest and is the oldest of us all. While we wait for an answer, I rip the list into three sections, handing one bit to each of us. 

“What’s this?” Noel asks, his face twisting as he reads, “What’s an eyelash curler look like?”

“Dunno, just ask her sister or summat,” I suggest as he whips his head to look at me.

“I’m not doing that. You can get it.” He sounds done with this already. Nice of him to help out, though. 

The front door creaks, only a crack of light letting us see in. It seems that no one is there until we look down to see a small girl with large eyes, timidly hiding. She looks just like the girl we had left in the car, only much shorter and unaware of the world around her. She’s wearing a bright pink princess dress and pretend fairy wings.

“Who’s there, darling?” A more mature woman calls from inside, approaching and fully swinging the door open. “Oh, uhm… can I help you?” She watches all of us with suspicion. I would too. Three ruffians show up at your door. What would you do?

“We’re here for your daughter's things, we won’t be long. That's alright?” Bonehead politely asks, though this question is followed by an unwarranted entry. He pushes the door open farther, smiling at our girls' mum. 

“Sure… she alright?” We all reply in muddled Yeah, sure, she’s alright. She half-welcomes us in, as she scans our faces. I can tell she’s trying to place where she knows us from, but before she can get too far into thought, all of us kick our shoes off and silently head up the stairs. 

“Which ones her room?” Noel whispers from behind me.

“It’ll be the last door on the left.” I hand down the bags I’ve been holding behind me like an assembly line.

Chapter 7

“A Proper Whack”

_________

Previously…

“Yes, a girl.”

_________

Ellis doesn’t take me all the way to school; instead, he drops me at what I presume is the nearest bus stop in the neighbourhood. He was strangely quiet, contemplating, I could tell. When the car comes to a stop, I step out, waving a small goodbye (which is not reciprocated) and toddle off to where familiar groups of kids stand about. I’ve never been too scared of social situations, but the people surrounding me are making me a bit nervous, if I’m completely real.

The stench of tobacco creeps its way to my brain; my mother calls that the smell of bad choices. Some kids in the huddles I can recognise from my year, others I’ve never seen the likes of. They must go to that rival school of ours. I can assume this by the deep shade of green they wear proudly. Those deviants are never scared to start fights, especially with my school. I had heard something about one of them hitting some kid over the head with a hammer. He did nothing to deserve it; he was just standing around with his lads. I wonder who that could have been.

“A bit cold for shorts, y’know.” Liam strides over to me, lit cigarette in hand. He comes up from behind, giving me a casual pat on the shoulder as he passes. Then, without looking at me, he continues forward. He joins his friends who peek over at me, whispering questions at him. I just look down the street to see if the bus is any closer. They never seem to be on time when you need them to be.

When I turn back to see if his group is still chatting it up about me, a bleached blonde boy is standing just inches from my face. He’s wearing the aforementioned green uniform; his shirt is only half tucked in, and his pants are slightly oversized, giving him an edgy kind of bad-boy vibe. His hands hang in his pockets as he stares me down through his lashes.

“Oh, sorry, am I in your way?” I step to the side slightly. I don’t know what I would be in the way of, but there must be a reason that this stranger has approached me. And I hope that the reason is simply to pass by. I don’t want any trouble.

“Nah, I thought you were fit. What’s your name, love? Is it as pretty as you are?” My jaw drops slightly in surprise and disgust. I take a step back and try to smile, one that says I’m flattered, but no thank you.

“I’m not interested–” 

“Why not? You got a boy toy or summat like that?” He steps closer, closing the distance between us, backing me into a street light at the corner I was standing on, “He wouldn’t have to know.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not really– you’re not my type, really.” Shit, why did I say that? I bet that’s going to make him ask me more questions. Stupid ones like–

“Well, what is your type then? I’d like to think I’m quite a pretty boy type, but I can change that for someone as fine as you are, darling.”

Ewuh. Can he really just not take the blaring signs I’m putting out to him? My jaw tightens as he steps forward, making me further recoil into the lamppost. I flatten my palms against his chest and push him forward. 

“Could you please just leave me alone?” He grabs my wrists and rubs them with his thumbs.

“Fighsty one you are,” I can hear his friends oohing and aahing at the scene being created in front of them. The people who recognise me share confused remarks; I’m quite known not to get up to shenanigans like this.

I can see Liam’s friends over his shoulder in front of me, one of them luckily senses the distress coming from my general direction and slaps Liam on the arm. He points to me and yells, “Hey! What’cha doing to the bird?”  This causes Liam to turn slightly, seeing me in all my uncomfortable glory. His half-lidded expression turns to a sneer as he hands his cigarette to one of his neighbouring buddies. He drops his bag and ruffles his hair a tad. 

“Hey dickhead, go do one!” He directs at the blonde as he pivots. Liam leaves an empty spot in the group where he was standing, one that his friends don’t fill. Instead, all of them turn in a semi-circle formation to watch Liam walk over to us. He treads a bit faster than his usual sway, his jaw slightly tightened. The boy in front of me doesn’t flinch, still locked on my face, my knotted brow, and flustered frown.

The boy hears footsteps behind us, but still doesn’t move an inch. “That him?” He finally looks at Liam, coming to stand next to his right side, in response he smiles widely, not a trace of regret splatters across him. “Well, you’ve got a face like a slapped arse mate, what’s gone up yours?” he crosses his arms casually, sizing Liam up.

“Right, you muppet,” He throws an arm over my shoulder, “This one’s not for you.” Liam pushes between us, placing a hand on the lad’s chest to lead him backwards to give me space to move. He puts his arms up in mock surrender and obliges. “C’mon, I’ve got you,” Liam softly speaks into my ear. The heat of his breath cuts through the cold. I wish I could sit in it like a hammock.

“The bird yours then?” Liam pauses, his eyes sharpen. I close mine tightly; I go to open my mouth, trying to figure out what to say. Maybe we’re just friends, but I wouldn’t really call him that. Maybe something edgy like I don’t belong to anyone dickhead, but surely I would stay up all night long thinking about how absolutely embarrassing that is. I’ll stay quiet, let Liam do the talking. 

He’s quite good at that.

“Well, I didn’t say that, did I?” he twirls my hair with the hand slung around me and takes a moment to look at my worried face, flashing me a reassuring, toothy smile. I gaze up at him, slightly peeved that any of this is happening, then I look down at the floor. I kick my foot around a bit to distract myself. Liam looks into the eyes of the bothersome lad, “but next time you take a look at ‘er, give your ‘ead a proper wack and fuck off.” The boy scoffs.

 I can finally take a breath as we begin to depart from the scene of the crime.  I assume that they’re just going to leave it.

“Wait till I tell your little girlfriend that you were hitting on another girl,” Liam looks over his shoulder to the fuming boy, who freezes in place, “I bet she wouldn’t like that much, yeah?” He scratches his jaw. We make eye contact, which causes both of us to stifle our laughs as we walk farther back to Liam’s friends. However, Liam’s giggle escapes him once we get about halfway there, and he nudges me playfully.

I’m sure that’s enough of that then.

Suddenly, Liam is pulled by the back of his shirt, completely removing me from underneath his arm. 

_________

LIAM’S PERSPECTIVE 

He was about my height, and I knew I could take him as soon as I laid my eyes on him. If I didn’t think I could give him a good ruffle, I wouldn’t have been mouthy. He’s also quite slim; I’ve seen more meat on a butcher's pencil, if I’m honest. The tug didn’t scare me; if anything, it lit a fire in me that was already being fanned by the fact that this goober approached her in the first place. He’s not even her type, I’m sure. Not preppy enough, I bet.

I’ve been mad for a tussle recently. I haven't fought anyone in a while, a clean streak threatened by my mum. She said that if I get in another fight, she’ll make me get a “real job.” But she’s not here right now, and Noel’s not present to rattle on about it to her later. Therefore, I’m free to throw the first punch straight into the jaw of this twat.

My arm swings through the air, meeting his face with a whack. The lad has to take a second to reunite himself with Earth, which lets me know that the first hit was a good one. The corner of my mouth raises while I feel all the eyes of those around me land on the scene. It’s exhilarating, I soak in the moment listening to the rumble of my peers start to build, which allows this shite to get back at me. He gives me a whack, barreling into my mouth, splitting my lip slightly. The blood is warm and metallic while it slides down my chin. I wipe it sloppily with the heel of my palm, sure I look proper badarse.

I don’t know why I got so pissed when I saw him talking to her. Usually, it doesn’t bother me, even when I am actually interested in a girl. I know I’m a pretty boy, me, so other lads don’t scare my confidence. But I could feel my blood boiling when I saw the discomfort radiating off of her. The way her eyes flickered over his face, the way her hands tensed at her side. She’s supposed to be mine, and I’m not letting anyone get in the way of her and me.

For the sake of the bet, I mean.

 I push his chest, causing him to tumble messily to the pavement. He scoots backwards while I step slowly in front of him, backing him against the chainlink fence. He looks like a scared rabbit backed into the corner by an apex predator. I get down to his level, straddling his legs and throwing my fists on either side of his face. One of his friends grabs under my arms, trying to pull me backwards. I’m not phased, I keep swinging. 

“Get off me twat!” he tries to grab my arms to stop me, his head thrashing to each side while I beat the daylights out of him.

“What? You want to be a softy now?” I tease over the sounds of the crowd

He reaches a hand up to try to choke me, wrapping his fingers with whatever strength he has left. But he gives up halfway, letting his arm go limp by his side.

“LIAM.” 

My brother's booming voice flies to reach my ear, and I snap back into reality. I feel the rage slip from me a bit when I look down to see the blonde boy wavering in and out of consciousness under me. I hadn’t even registered how many times I had made fist-to-face contact with him. I turn my head and see Noel standing beside my little catholic friend. She stands with her hand covering her mouth, staring at a trail of blood and a burst of matching blood red nail polish broken on the floor. Noel’s arms are crossed, but when his eyes meet mine, he slaps his palms on his forehead and drags them down his face. 

Please don't tell mum. Please don’t tell mum. Please don’t tell mum.

My friends and the other kids' group pull me off, arguing with each other while they move. My knuckles ache as I feast my eyes on the blood all over my hands. Drops of red adorn my jeans, my nice white school shirt, and the pavement around me. I sit crisscrossed on the floor where I had been thrown off, silent, unfazed. The guy’s friends surround him, slapping him back to consciousness and bringing him to his feet. He’s beaten in; I did my big one. My mates all run off as soon as they hear the bus arrive. So much for them. Not like I need their help, though, I’m practically unscathed other than my weeping lip. The world around me starts to blur. 

However, just as I start to space out, two cold palms cup my face as the girl I had been fighting for sits in front of my slouched figure. She’s on her knees, inspecting me like a pinned butterfly under a microscope. She turns my jaw from left to right with a light hand, breathing in sharply through her teeth when she looks at my lips.

“Does that not hurt?” She says, leaning in while brushing some blood away with her thumb.

I say nothing, I just watch her. The way her eyes search my face, her fingertips grazing parts of my face that have never been touched so gently, like when you peel back the petals of a rose. The worry in her eyes somehow satisfies the anger; it makes me feel as if I’m floating on a never-ending, still, warm pool. I lean into the touch I receive a bit too much, catching myself before I completely fall into her soft palms and beg for more. I think she notices this, too, as she pulls away delicately. A soft smile creeps to her cheeks, her eyebrows upturned in concern. 

I hear the bus pull away; we have officially missed it. Just brilliant. I had a test I didn’t want to do today anyway, so this may actually work in my favour. Give me more time to study, I guess, which I probably still won’t do. The boys drag their friend off, two of them under his arms, to hide him from public view. We all get into trouble with the feds quite often, both of our schools do, so I bet if the cops saw any trace of what went down and how beat that kid was, we’d all get our arses handed to us. Better that they just take care of him on their own time, no cops involved.

“The fuck was that?” Noel towers over both of us, standing behind the gentle girl, lined with worry in a crouched position. His attitude presses the button in my head that turns my personality back on.

“He was a dick, had to do something. Can’t let heathens like him be running about our streets without a lesson, no no no.” I wag my pointer finger, then rest my hands behind me to prop myself up. Noel rolls his eyes and then gazes at the remnants on the floor.

“That nail polish?” His face twists in confusion, “I mean, I know the kids you hang out with paint their nails black, but I didn’t think you’d take it that far–”

“Wasn’t for me.” I snap back.

“Who’s it for then?” I turn my attention to the girl in front of me. She quirks her head, I just shrug and look back at Noel, squinting through a bit of sunlight that I shield myself from with one of my hands.

“You are such an ass, you know that?” Noel bends his knees beside me and gives me a swift slap on the back of the neck. I rub it in response as he begins to walk off. “C’mon,” he says.

I go to stand up, extending a hand to the gal, too, since I’m so gentlemanly, pulling her up along with me. I loop my arm in hers and begin to skip off to catch up to my brother. She laughs and unhooks herself from my elbow, shoving me to the side.

“You best not tell mom, I’ll get you if you do.” I pat my brother on the back once I get close enough.

“Whatever,” he replies, tired of my bullshit. All three of us walk together, quiet giggles escaping unexpectedly as we make our way over.

_________

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

I just truly can’t believe this all happened. 

We all sit outside of a coffee shop, when the waitress took our orders a few minutes ago, she only talked to me. She was completely petrified to talk to the boys, since Noel looked like he was going to maul his brother, and Liam was ragged and bloody. Aren’t those just the visitors you’d want to serve at this hour of the morning? I know I would! At least we’re bringing something interesting for her to talk about to her coworkers. They’re all staring at us through the large glass windows, trying to read our lips and piece together how we got in such a state.

To be honest, I’m not very sure how we got here either. I take an alcohol swab out of the shop bag on the green-swirly-wired table. I rip the package open carefully and angle myself to face Liam, who’s on my right. He eyes it and shakes his head.

“No way.”

“C’mon, don't be a baby.”

“I am a baby. I’m proud of it. No chance you’re getting that anywhere near me.”

“Just let her do it, mate.” Noel exasperates. He’s on my left, reading an NME magazine. 

Liam looks at me with puppy-like eyes, begging me not to. I ignore this plea and hold the side of his face while I carefully tap the wound, causing him to wince slightly.

“Oh, not as bad as I remember,” he starts, “when you’re a kid, it hurts loads more.”

I laugh, “told you so, ninny.” 

“Right, I may be a baby, but I’m no fucking ninny.” I give a mocking frown and finish up cleaning all the dried blood. I’m missing school, basically skipping it, which is something I would never do. I feel a bit shaky about it, like my mom is just around the corner with binoculars and a Polaroid ready to catch me at any second. On one hand, I feel like a free bird flying over the vast city and on the other, I can feel heavy stacks of homework and pop quizzes I’m probably missing right now. It’s always when I miss a day that the teachers decide to teach the most important lessons and give the most work.

“So what’s with the shorts?” Noel cuts through the quiet. Liam laughs to himself, which causes my eyes to involuntarily roll. Asking about a girl's outfit choices must be a genetic trait in the Gallagher family.

“They’re my brothers.” They both freeze and look at each other, a mix of panic and curiosity run past their eyes.

“D’ya have a secret second brother or summat?” Noel kicks his brother under the table, hard enough that it elicits a response out of the already beat up boy, “ouch you cunt.” He leans over me, whose centered between the ruffians, to whisper aggressively at Noel.

“Nah, it’s the usual one.” Their eyes focus on me, trying to read my expression.

“Ya? How’d you manage to get your hands on those? Run out of those nun-approved skirts you wear?” Liam crosses his arms. The waitress brings over the coffees, quickly dropping them and leaving without a trace.

“You know how last night my mum said she’d call me when she got home from the church?” Liam nods, and Noel’s eyebrows furrow as he leans in, watching him. He mouths so that’s where you were… Guess he just found out where Liam was last night through me. Oops. Anyways, “Well, my mum didn’t answer… My dad did.” 

“Kay, and what’s so special about that?” Liam takes a sip of his drink. 

I take a deep breath, “He was pissed, and my mum was skriking the whole call in the background. He kicked me out and said the family would be moving without me. So I called my brother with the number that I might have, maybe, possibly found in your journal while I was looking through it,” I pause and speak directly to Liam, “Sorry about that, by the way,” I go on, “he picked me up and brought me to… I guess his place? And he set out his old uniform for me, which obviously didn’t include a skirt. Then, in the morning he accused me of spilling some big secret I have no clue about. Oh, and just so you know, I know you lied to me about not knowing where my brother was. Said you hadn’t seen him, but ya did. Because I saw the practice drums for your band in his living room.” 

They both sit in silence.

“So that’s why I’m wearing shorts.”

They have nothing to say.

Chapter 6

“Cigarettes & Nail Polish”

_________

Previously…

“Don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, just get in the fucking car.”

_________

The light sounds of the late-night radio fill my head as I stare out the dirty window. We pass by street lamps that flicker in a horror-movie kind of way, people walking down the street in all-black track suits, and the occasional stray cat. My side of town, clean and quiet, slowly morphs into one of nightlife and art. Groups of teenagers stand around each other, smoking freely and laughing loudly, even at such an hour. Graffiti painted on old buildings, music bursting through the doors of the pubs. I overheard a conversation Liam had at lunch today. I think Oasis is playing somewhere tonight. I wonder if it’s one of the places we’re passing by now, and I wonder if he got there on time after the whole church fiasco. All of these lively people are a stark contrast to the seething boy in the seat beside me. 

“You know if Oasis is playing in one of those places tonight?” I ask confidently, breaking the harsh silence. 

No answer. That’s fine. Two can play at that game. I’ll be quiet, I guess.

Ellis drives carefully, as if the police were tailing him. Not a word more is spoken, not a knob is turned on the dash to change the blasting heater whilst I cook in my layers, not a note of music is raised louder in volume. This last observation really surprises me; usually, Ellis blasts whatever music he can. He says that “not a minute of the day should be wasted without music.” I would choose the dingiest prison cell over the bland, mechanical version of my older brother that I am forced to witness at this very moment. He's reminding me a bit of our father, which makes me shiver in my overheating skin. 

We start to get deeper into whatever part of the city we have entered, and apartments line the streets on either side of us. I try to memorize every building and street name I can. I want to know how to get here, even if Ellis doesn’t want me to show up again. I’m quite persistent, me. Some not-so-pretty-looking characters sit on sidewalks and give intense glares at us as we drive past. My skin starts to crawl, and my eyes start to dart. I’m on high alert always, but being in a place like this at such an hour has put me on one. My brother notices this, and I can see him trying to hold back some remark about my fearful nature. But now, I guess, is not the time. Though I would have appreciated it, lighten the mood and all that.

Ellis pulls into a spot on the side of the road, in front of a light blue building with a large white door. The click of his seatbelt makes me unsnap mine, and I step out only when he does. I look forward to a short staircase that leads downward to the entrance. 

“Right. Go on,” my brother motions to the aforementioned steps as he carefully locks the car, tugging aggressively at the handle to make sure it’s completely sealed. I walk with my head down, watching my beaten white Converse slap against the concrete. Every step is making me feel more and more guilty. What for? I have no clue. But I know there’s something to be guilty about, something that is making Ellis act so cold towards me. Perhaps we’ll talk about it in the morning, or perhaps not. I don’t want to get further on his bad side.

A warm arm pushes me to the side once Ellis reaches the end of the stairs, typing in a code to the door, a strangely modern addition to an older-looking building. He makes sure to cover the numbers he presses. Really, he’s taken every precaution to prevent me from coming back. I bet you the way we took to get here was all messed up too, a long way that’s harder to remember. The keypad beeps to signal that the door is open. Ellis kicks his shoes off lazily in front of a hall closet to the right. He hasn’t really once looked at me the whole trip here, and even when he did, it felt like he was looking through me. I’m like a ghost to him, a ghost of an old friend he left behind a long time ago. Kind of like a Christmas carol, that makes him Scrooge in this scenario, which is fitting given the current attitude he’s been putting out. I follow suit, untying my laces and placing my shoes nicely beside his. He notices this, and a painful look passes over his eyes, but nowhere else on his face. I think it’s because, for only a second, it felt like we were at home again, in normalcy.

The house is full of half unpacked boxes, and the room is split down the center. One half, the left, has the kitchen. All the cabinets are an ugly orange wood color, and the amenities all look out of date. The refrigerator is full of colorful magnets, all of which have place names he’s never seen the likes of. I wonder to myself how he got those and why he would choose to display them. Maybe they were left by the last people who lived here. 

On the right side is the living room, with a dirty tan couch and Ellis’ bass propped against it, facing a small TV on the floor. In the corner is a beat-up drum set that I recognize from my garage. I had been wondering where it had gone. All of the members of Oasis had signed the front, I look and see the messy signatures of each one. I remember that my brother said it was “Just in case they put this in a museum someday.” They had two sets of drums, one they used for gigs and the other for practice. I think it’s because they got tired of building it and then taking it apart so many times. Easier to have one always ready to play for rehearsal and one always ready to go. Looking around, there are three offshoot rooms; Ellis walks me to the first one, which is accessed past the not-very-decorated ‘family’ room.

 As I walk, working up static against my socks and being guided by a looming figure behind me, the carpets push up years' worth of cigarette stench, which I’m sure was contributed to by my brother. Happy to see he's taken kindly to the traditions of all owners that came before him. I’m sure my mother would cry at the thought of her little boy picking up a cigarette. After two years of smoking, she never once caught him. He turns the handle open and half shoves me inside, slamming the door behind me once I’ve stepped far enough in. The place goes pitch black as the sliver of light from the open door quickly dissolves.

He didn’t even bother to turn the lights on. How nice and considerate. 

I really shouldn’t be complaining, I could be alone in a spooky church right now or a strict Catholic diplomat’s family’s guest room. Actually, that would be kind of nice. Maybe I should have opted for that, just walked to Sarah’s, perhaps. I’m not quite sure where she was living now, though; her family is always moving about town. Maybe they’re testing out all the high-end homes to see which one they like best. Anyway, it’s too late to reminisce on the choices I could have made. I feel the slick wall in the dark room with my toasty hand, pressing for a switch somewhere. The texture dances across my fingertips until finally,

Click.

Found it. I am blasted with a terribly yellow overhead light and reveal to myself possibly the plainest bedroom in all of existence. The walls are yellowed with not a lick of artwork or a single window. To my left is a very small, and empty, sliding door closet. In the centre of the room is a queen bed backed against the wall. Might I note it has no back frame, only a metal one that lifts it a few inches off the floor. Beside it is a small bedside table with coffee stains on top and an alarm clock that ticks every second. That will get annoying, I’m sure. The bed is made with white sheets, one pillow, and at the end is a folded-up school uniform. It seems to be one of my brother’s old ones from when he was a bit more girlish in figure. I used to tease him for having girly shoulders and skinny legs. He does not possess either of these traits in the current day, but seeing the memory of these times before my eyes makes a nostalgic smile rise to my face. 

Also on the nightstand is a phone, a Rolodex behind it catches my eye. I make my way to it, sitting on the edge of the bed. A puff of laundry detergent is sent into the air when I sit. I start scrolling through, impatiently looking through every letter. Just a bit of light reading before bed, one could say.

There’s absolutely jack shit, though. 

Oh, hold on, “O” has one single index card. It lists every member of the band “Oasis” in one space. I guess for quick access or something. My eyes scan for Liam’s name, and I find it right under Noel's. I should probably keep it, he seems to be good at saving me when I need help. Although I definitely won’t be using it to call him for anything else. I don’t think I should surround myself with boys like him. No matter how cool they may seem, or how many nice things they do for me. I go to reach for a pen somewhere beside me, when I realize that I don’t have my backpack. Obviously, I hadn’t thought I would need it when I left home, since I assumed I was going back. This means that I have no pen to write this all down. So, I rip it off and put it between the folded clothes at the end of my bed. Simple problem, simple solution. Speaking of clothes, I strip down to my basic layers for better comfort when sleeping, setting Liam’s jacket beside the uniform at the foot of the bed. 

I mosey back over to the same spot I sat at before, and I pick up the clock, setting it to alert me to my usual waking hour, and come back to the light switch. After I press the button, shrouding me once again in darkness, I let my eyes adjust for a second so that I may lead myself to the bed. The corners of each item in the scarcely decorated room start to reveal themselves, so I slowly stride to the bed. I put my arms out, feeling for the edge of the mattress. I carefully move the covers back, climbing in. They’re tightly shoved into the corners, making me feel like a paper doll when I slip in between them. I punch around inside to loosen them a tad and close my eyes, still swollen from crying a few hours before.

_________

LIAM’S PERSPECTIVE

After another late night, I jolt awake to my mum knocking quickly on my door. When she found out that I was getting more serious about attending school, she decided that she would wake me up every morning to make sure I got ready on time. I rub my overly-tired eyes while her fist pounds against the wood, my ears still ringing from last night's gig, “I’m up, I’m up! Christ,” 

“I’m making breakfast downstairs, hurry up now,” Her voice is muffled through the walls.

Last night was interesting, no doubt. I had only planned to give the address to her, not hide under pews from a priest and her mother. But life is never that easy, is it? All the band was pissed at me because I was, like, five minutes late. Big deal to them, not to me. Oh well. None of them asked what made me late. I would have loved to brag about being out with a girl, but nothing that would be of note to them even happened. So I didn’t bother.

I felt really bad for her, truly. And I also wonder what’s going to happen to her, though it’s none of my business after the music festival. All I have to do is get my money, then she’s none of my concern. But for now, I have to get on her good side so that I don’t lose to bonehead and my brother. I don’t have the funds to be paying for bonehead’s guitar picks.

I throw on my uniform, all that I can find of it that is, and run my fingers through my hair to bring some lost volume back. Part of it still lies strangely flat, since I slept on it whilst it was wet. I always shower straight after gigs, I don’t want to be one of those rock stars who get columns written about the stench of them. I look behind me and notice that Noel isn’t sleeping in his bed; he must be over at a girl's house or summat like that. Whatever. Means more peace for me, I suppose.

I search my room for my jacket, quickly remembering where I left it last. Guess I’ll be chilly today, no big deal. They keep the heater blazing in the classrooms, so it’s no bother. I had to be a gentleman, me. Leave the jacket for the girl to sleep on. Don’t want her waking up with her neck hurting. Not that I really care that much… I walk down the cold wooden steps to witness my two brothers at the table, including the one I thought was away this morning, with smug grins on their faces as they watch me descend. 

“What?” They stare at me.

“Nothin’,” Paul replies, getting up from his spot at the table. He starts making his way to the door, catching Mum on the way out to say goodbye. She’s come back inside from talking to the neighbors, I think. 

“Nah, it’s not funny. What’s your problem, twat?” Noel laughs to himself a bit. I just scoff and sit down, locking my eyes on the clown in front of me. He has his head turned to the side and is covering his mouth with his hand as he props himself up on the table.

“So Noel was just telling me about a girl you’ve met,” I whip my head to face my mother, “Is that why you’ve been attending school, dear?” She looks pleased with herself and distinctly curious. Noel laughs again. Man, I really wish he had been at a girl's house like I thought, instead of spilling my business across the breakfast table. I roll my eyes and start eating the food that had been left for me. 

“S’nothing really. None of Noel’s business either.” The words spill from my half-full mouth. 

“Ah, but it is.” I look at him, confused, questioning if he’s really going to say what I think he will next, “Because I put money in for the bet, me.” 

Yep, he did. Now I have to expect a thorough talking to from mum about how dull and dickhead-ish it is to be making bets around girls. Especially nice catholic ones that might help me get my grades up if I ask nicely.

“A bet?” Mum asks with anger encroaching upon her tone.

“Right, I’m going now.” I make a swift exit for the door, grabbing my backpack on the way out. I ignore all the comments coming from behind me as I leave.

A bet? About a girl? Haven’t I taught you better?

And 

I know, isn’t he just the worst? Y’know, I told him this is going to be a bad Idea. I’d never do such a thing, me. Knobhead move, that is.

Whatever. He’s such a cunt.

_________

The breeze pushes me forward on my path, also coincidentally pushing me into a small store where I can steal a pack of cigs. How convenient! I push the door open, and it dings in response to let the owner know I’ve entered. Nice old man, he never notices when I slide past the register to grab my Marlboro lights. I have to have a cover, though, something small to buy, to not raise any suspicion. I scan around the shop, my sight makes its way to the beauty aisle, where a small red bottle catches my eye.

“Morning, Liam! Having a good morning?” The owner chats to me, and I smile in response. 

“I’ve been good, and yourself?” He loves to converse, but I always have to cut it short. Once you get him started, he doesn’t ever stop. He goes on about some deal with the post office while I slide away to get the nail polish bottle on the third shelf. An OPI bottle: Not Really a Waitress. May not be a waitress, but it’s exactly what I’m looking for. I bring it to the counter, setting it down on the glass, and a sharp noise lets out in response. Maybe I should be more careful with it. The owner leans down to grab a very small plastic bag. I take my opportunity to reach over him, slipping the carton of my choosing into my back pocket. I can only hope a police officer isn’t about. Especially the one that likes to lurk around this time of morning. He once caught me at the shop across the way, pulling the same stunt. But I’m young and spry, so I outran that wanker. 

Once the owner comes back up, he lets a moment sit where he takes in the item I’ve put down, and he looks at me with his kind old man eyes. Some sort of recognition washes over his expression.

“For a girl?” He asks softly

“Nah, just thought I’d change it up.” I joke. But he doesn’t joke back; instead, he stands with the same caring expression. I pause, “Yes, a girl.”

I don’t like her, really. Just needed a good cover-up. It’s all for the bet. 

_________

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

The alarm blares in the mostly empty room, jolting me awake. Quickly, I reach up and smash the off button, easing myself into an upright position. I take a deep breath in, capturing the air floating through the house. It’s stale, but I can taste the beginnings of a breakfast being cooked outside my door. Ellis had always been the best of us at cooking, something I was eternally jealous of. He never made food when Dad was home, though, since he believed that it was a woman’s responsibility and that a man should never have to step foot into the kitchen. What a pathetic excuse for a man.

I slide out of the crinkled sheets, and the cold brushes my skin. I look up to see the fan attached to the ceiling light at hyper-speed. I guess the light switch had made it go on full blast. I get on top of the mattress, boosting myself to pull at the string that slows the fan down. I drop down to the foot of the bed, where the uniform previously laid out on the end of my sheets had fallen onto the floor. I kick when I sleep; the uniform stood no chance.

I begin to change, picking up the items of clothing. They don’t look new by any means. I stand, noting how the shorts hug me a bit too tightly in an almost revealing way. I wonder if the teachers will kill me for this. Girls are allowed to wear shorts, but it isn’t a very popular choice, especially when it’s as cold as it’s been recently. I see the torn rolodex card peeking out from under a vest. I fold it carefully, slipping it into the front pocket. Luckily, the shirt is basically the same as the one I wear every day, but I throw on the sweater vest, which had been a discontinued part of my usual way of dress. I’ve never really liked how it fits me, but that’s alright. No one will really see it under Liam’s jacket. I can only hope no one recognizes it as his today. I’ll come up with some really believable excuse if they do.

As soon as every button is done, the vest is on, and the shorts are tampered with, I step out of the door into the rest of the house. Immediately, the feeling inside me shifts into uncomfortable tension. My brother is in the kitchen, sitting at the empty and beat-up table. He looks down at his food and pokes around slowly with his fork. He had made himself a full meal with eggs, beans, toast, all that stuff. But a bowl, milk, and plain Cheerios are sitting at the place where I presume my spot is. I shuffle over, setting myself into the wooden chair that has a cushion barely hanging on for dear life. This truly isn’t an ideal living situation, but if I had the chance to leave, I would take what I could get, too. 

“Sorry about the shorts, I couldn't find any of my old trousers.” My brother states, still gazing at his plate. He doesn’t really sound sorry, more neutral than anything.

“S’okay,” I reply timidly. I pour myself the cereal, keeping my motions very close to my body. It feels like there’s a large force field keeping me in a small box, one that I’m not allowed to penetrate. I take careful glances in his direction every once in a while, wondering if now would be the time to bring anything up.

Ellis takes a second to poke around some more, not once bringing the food to his mouth. “You can’t come back here tonight. You’re taking the bus home after school, that’s it.” I nod and scoop a heap of cereal. I didn’t eat a lot of my dinner last night since it wasn’t really up to par, so I’m starving. I cringe at the thought of going home; I’m definitely tagging along to Sarah’s house. Maybe I can ask a favor of her dad to come with me to gather my stuff. They always said that I “Always have a room” in their home. I can only hope that they weren’t just saying that to be kind. I might have to take them up on their offer.

The silence lies still like a lion stalking its prey. But I think it’s about time I say something. I take a sharp breath in,

“What did I do, Ellis?” 

His head turns suddenly, his eyes like hawks. He sucks his teeth and slams his hands on the table,

“Don’t play dumb now, you know what you said to mum and dad. Joan told me. There’s no hiding it.” His voice is harsh and booming. “You know, I didn’t even know you knew about it until she told me you tattled. The big mouth you are.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes tightly, returning to a calmer tone of voice, “Finish getting ready. You’re leaving in five.” I sit frozen in my seat, my heart trying to regulate itself. I start wrapping my brain to think of anything I might have done or said, just like I’ve done every day when I’ve had a quiet moment. But I still can’t find it. 

I’m not a loudmouth. When he dented dad’s car backing into a tree, I didn’t say anything. When he forgot to take Cathy to school, I didn’t say anything. When he snuck over to his girlfriends house in the middle of the night a few weeks before he left, I didn’t say anything.

Was that it? Was that what he thinks I tattled about?

“I didn’t say anything about you sneaking over to Willow’s house, if that’s what you’re on about.” I get a bit angry in tone as well. I’m sick of being out of the loop. “Even if I did, I don’t know why it would be such a big deal that you’d have to move out and never speak to me again.” 

He’s frozen; it looks like a thousand thoughts are running through his mind, like a Tv changing channels. He stares blankly at the table.

Chapter 5

“Under Pews”

_________

Previously…

“So you like getting on your knees for men while they tell you what to do?”

_________

I ignore the jaw-dropping comment as best I can and swing my head back to face the door. “Ah, no answer, I know what you are. Cheeky litt–” I slap my hand over Liam’s mouth and listen carefully to the noises outside, keeping my eyes fixed on his. I can feel him smiling in my palm as he watches me panic.

“ Thank you, Father. I just hope she’s in here,” it’s my mother AND the priest. I’m so fucked.

I grab Liam’s arm and pull him to the floor with me in one smooth motion. I push his bag under the gap of the bench. He doesn’t say anything at all; he’s on his back now, mouth parted in surprise, while I extend my reach over him to where I’d put the backpack, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady myself, making sure none of it peeks out from under the seat. Then I look back down to his face, now miraculously close to mine. 

 “In a church? Didn’t know you were that mad fer it,” he says offhandedly with a bit of humor. I shush him and process what he’s just said. I can only imagine what he’s assuming is happening right now, and that imagining sends a fluttering feeling through my bones. Though he’s in complete darkness, I can see the contours of his body. He looks at me with eyes that hold an expression that I don’t think I’ve ever seen on someone’s face before. In movies, yes, but never in person, directed at me. A smirk appears as we lock our eyes once more. I feel my face go red, the blood making its way to my cheeks first and then spreading to my ears. I shake my head and push his chest with an open palm, “No, shut up. No.” I whisper frantically. The footsteps get louder.

 He must not have heard what’s going on outside; he’s not taking this very seriously. He doesn’t understand that if I’m caught alone at night in church with a boy, let alone a Gallagher, there will be a public execution with my head on the chopping block. “Get under the pew right now.” He looks at me, confused, “I SAID GET UNDER THE–” The door creaks open. Liam follows the directions I’d given him, and I sit where I was before, my feet dangling in front of where his face is now. 

“Oh my girl,” My mom runs over to me as Father Makenzie stands in the doorway, wearing an undershirt and some jeans. His hair is slightly disheveled, and his wire-framed glasses are slightly askew. He’s a very sweet man, and he’s also kind of cute, I’ll admit. I know some girls in my parish only show up to gawk at him on Sunday mornings. He looks a bit like Paul Rudd when the light hits him at a specific angle. 

“How did you hop that thing? There’s no way you got over the fence all on your own.” Father laughs, I shake my head quickly, “No, sir, just me,” I retort, “It’s easy if you climb.” I’m twisting back to them, hoping that maybe they’ll just say, " Alright, time to go! “ And I can make a quick escape without anyone getting near the fugitive under me. I can feel his breath on my ankles, and my heart beat faster than it did when I sipped the wine during my first communion. 

But of course, my mum has to use this as a teaching moment, so she walks over with her clicking heels and sits down beside me, her citrusy perfume lingering in her path. Luckily, she chooses to sit in front of the bag and not the boy. “I know you’re upset, and I was talking about it with your dad,” she takes my hands in hers. Hope washes over my body as I anticipate her next words. We’ll stay here! Or maybe even if you want to stay, we’ll rent you a flat!

 But instead she says, “We decided to move sooner!” I feel the same as if Man City just lost the biggest game of the season, maybe even worse than that. Had she not listened to anything that any one of her children had said?  “How would that make me feel any better?” I rip my hands away and cross my arms. “Well, because! You’ll have time to go to school with some new people to make friends, so you’re not completely alone in the new city!” She smiles widely and pets my arm.

“I can’t believe this,” I drag my palms down my face and then cover it completely, slouching forward, “I like my friends here, and you’re missing the part about graduation.” The words are muffled in my hands. My mother sits quietly, trying to come up with her next excuse, “I want to graduate with Sarah and the rest of my class that I’ve grown up with my whole life.” I can feel my throat tighten a bit, but I push back any tears for now. We had all dreamed about one day walking the stage together, making bets on who would be the top of our class. Guess I’ll have to find out through phone calls and graduation announcements in the mail.

“Maybe you’ll meet a good catholic boy out there, and he’ll be the one for you!” She suggests. I hear a soft laugh from under me, and I cough over the sound to try and cover it up. 

“Ah, yes! That’s very important. You’ve got to find one with good intentions. I bet there will be fewer bad-boy-rock-stars in the city.” I turn to see the peanut gallery, who decided to put their opinion into the private conversation. Father Makenzie sits next to the door on a darkwood bench with beautiful carvings of nature; the armrests are sheep that face toward the front of the room. I stare daggers at him, which feels like a sin within itself, trying to shut a priest up with my eyes. But God doesn’t like nosy cunts, that’s somewhere in the Bible, I’m sure. 

Psalm 4:20 “If you’re trying to give an opinion in a matter that doesn’t involve you, shove it up the ass the lord gifted you, amen.” 

I live by that.

“You know I’m not looking for a boy. I’d rather spend the rest of my life alone than end up with some Londoner prick.” I roll my eyes, “I’ll be a nun.” I hold onto the seat on either side of me and start kicking my feet a bit, forgetting that Liam is under me. Two large hands come out from under my skirt and grab my heels, holding my feet in place. I stifle a laugh, which would be completely inappropriate in such a serious conversation. 

I’ll apologize to him later.

My mother huffs in frustration, then thinks of something else, “If it makes you feel any better, I’d be able to quit my job and stay home with you and Cathy!” My ears perk up in interest.

“So if we moved… You wouldn’t work?” I question. My mother has been a nurse for so long, and it’s something she actually enjoys. When she would braid my hair after bathtime as a kid, she would tell me stories of all the people she’d seen or saved that day. I remember her saying that when she was 16, she had a dream where she saw Jesus and that he told her that her purpose was to help the sick.

What would Jesus think if she stopped helping? 

She shrugs, “I mean, if your father works more, yeah. Joan is getting older, so she’ll move out, I’m sure.” She takes a breath, “Which means we can get a smaller house, bring the payments down so that we won’t need two lines of income. Along with the fact that we’d have a lot more public transit,” she tucks my hair behind my ear, “Sell the car off and what have you.”

I sit still, trying to take it all in. I really don’t need more change, especially when the only person who can keep me sane during these trying times hates my guts. I wonder if he would even care that we all got up and left.

 Every night since he’s been gone, I leave the porch light on just in case. I made his bed for him this morning before I left. When I go to bed, I  leave our bedroom door open a little extra. Past the point of the hinge where it starts squeaking, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about waking me up with the sound if he came back in the middle of the night. If I were granted one wish I could have in this moment, it would be a hug from my older brother and a debrief session in our room. I miss talking to him about how insufferable everyone else but us is. I feel my throat tighten again, but the urge to hold my grief back has weakened.

 “You don’t have hope that Ellis will come back? I mean, like, what if he’s just been lost and he finds his way back, and what if when he’s found his way, we’re not home?” Tears well up in my eyes, then without control, they begin to spill out,  “He won’t know what house to call, where his home is.” I talk about him as if he’s a childhood dog that’s run away, but it kind of feels that way. I’m sure he’s having adventures with all his wild friends, going places he’s never seen before he left the house, but I worry about him.

I take a wavering breath. “I want to stay here; I know he’ll come back. We just have to give it time–” My voice breaks into small sobs as I wipe my eyes with my long white sleeves. Mum pulls me into a side hug, petting my hair as I wet her shoulder. I feel like a child again. I’m crying like I did when she would let go of my hand in the grocery store.

She takes a deep breath in, “I don’t really want to go either, if I’m completely honest.” I search her eyes and find the honesty; her optimistic exterior breaks under the pressure of trying to convince me that this was all a good idea. “It’s your father, he just– He just can’t be here anymore. It hurts him too much.” She sighs, “Of course, he won’t say that, though. When he proposed the idea to me, I was excited because he had framed it as ‘I’ll be able to work more, so you can just stay home and take care of the little darlings!’ Which excited me, but I forgot that my Little Darlings have lives too.” We sit, both thinking to ourselves and silently forgiving each other for our anger.

I blink away more tears, my breath is still unsteady, but I’m distracted by the question looming on my mind: 

“What’s hurting him so much that he can’t stay?” I ask through sniffles.

She takes a moment, then ignores my question, “I’ll talk to your father again,” She says, placing a hand on my knee, “But you stay here, you know how he gets. I’ll call the phone up at the front here when he’s calmed down.” She kisses my forehead and raises herself to her feet. She goes to pull her keys out from her pocket, but they fall to the ground and next to the backpack.

“Aye. Silly me,” She goes to pick them up, but I slide off the pew and grab them off the marble, scooping them up and opening her hand to place the keys inside. I push my mother into the aisle and watch her meet Father Mak at the door, turning around halfway in confusion from the way I had rushed her out.  “I’ll leave it unlocked for you,” Father says as they wave and begin to leave, closing the door all the way. I realize that I haven’t really breathed in a while, falling on my knees to the floor to catch my breath, holding onto the pew to my right.

 I’m in the middle of the aisle, head in hands, when I feel a warm embrace surround me. I shift myself to wrap my arms around Liam’s shoulders. He sits on the floor with his back against the armrest of a pew, just holding me. “Close one, yeah?” He asks softly, a joking tone paints the words. I laugh, which lets out more cries. He holds me tighter, resting his chin on the top of my head. He makes circles with his thumb over my skin. He whispers comforting phrases to me while he lets me snuggle into him.

It’s okay, it’ll all work out. He says to me, gently.

“I’m sorry for,” I hiccup, “For kicking you,” He laughs, “S’alright, I’ll get you back fer it, and we’ll be even.” 

_________

Ring…. Ring….

I must’ve fallen asleep at some point, as I wake up on the bench Father Mak had been sitting on earlier, a badly-folded-up Adidas jacket cradling my head. Luckily, I’m not too far from the ringing phone that’s hung on the wall to my left. I pop up and scoot over to the other side of the bench as I reach to answer it. 

I grab the receiver and bring it to my ear, “Hello, mum?” 

“Get your stuff and leave. If you’re not keen on moving with your fucking loving family, you’ll stay here and live on the streets where all you and your brother’s druggie friends end up.” Then a long beep as my father hangs up. 

I could hear my mother sobbing in the background while he bitched me out. When she said she would talk to him, I had a feeling in my gut that it would end up like this. My dad could switch up faster than the flip of a coin; lots of times, it’s yelling and shouting. But sometimes, it gets to the chair-throwing level; that haircut story is not an isolated incident. I think about what he might do to me when I get home. What bruises I’ll have to hide with bracelets or makeup. I feel my hands start to shake, like a volcano before it erupts. I don’t think I can step foot back in there while he’s home, even just to gather whatever I need for school the next morning. Just three seconds in a house with my father in it is a death sentence when he’s angry.

I weigh my choices. 

Get killed by my father in a blind rage 

Stay in the eerie church until morning

Or the third and most appealing option,

Find somewhere else to sleep tonight.

I can’t call Sarah at such an hour, in her home, they take all the phones off the hook when they go to sleep. They get calls from international businessmen all night long, if they don't, because of her parents' jobs. I think they’re diplomats? I’m not sure. I had given Liam my number, but I didn’t get his. So he’s not an option. Besides, even if I did, I would be too embarrassed to ask him to take me in after he let me cry into his arms. I was in such a state tonight, a real mess. I shouldn’t care about what he thinks of me, but I don’t want him to see me like that ever again. 

The only person left who doesn’t live in my house is my brother. Should I try to call him again… 

Let’s weigh my options one more time…….

I think yes. 

I roll my sleeve up. The numbers on my arm from the other night are still mostly there, since they didn’t get washed away in the shower I was meant to take tonight, which was replaced by running away to the lord's house. My hands still shake a bit, but now for another reason, as I push each button into the keypad, the tone rings out, filling the quiet room.

One ring,

Two,

Three,

Please, 

Please,

 please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease—

“Who’s this?”

“I don’t know what the fuck I did to you, but if you care about my life even just a little bit, you'd pick me up from the church right now. I love you, bye.” I hang up the line and wait.

I wait a long time. 

I watch the clock embedded in the altar at the front of the church’s stage tick, reaching ten pm. I remember when I left my house, it was only around six. I wish I had something to do while I waited, old man stuff like crosswords or sudoku. All there is to choose from are pamphlets about taboo topics that haven’t been touched for at least a decade; everyone on the covers don big fluffy bangs, classic early 80s style.

I swing my legs as I sit, missing the boy that I had kicked whilst doing the same thing a few hours ago. It's a weird thing that I miss him. I don’t usually want boys in my age group to be anywhere remotely close to me, let alone ones who are known to smoke and hook up carelessly with the female population. I wasn’t joking when I said that I would be a nun; the girls in my friend group all have a pact that if, by 30, we don’t have husbands, we’ll go join the sisterhood. One of us, Marie, already got married at SIXTEEN, though. Obviously, she won’t be joining us. 

Shame, she would have looked cute in the habit. 

I lay down again, sideways on the bench, playing with the sleeve of the jacket that was left for me. I recognize it as the one that Liam wears virtually every day. I’m surprised it doesn’t look too torn up for how much it’s been worn to death. Maybe he has one of those closets like a cartoon character, where it’s just hangers upon hangers of the same shirt over and over again. Just with the same jacket and jeans. I space out while I twirl the fabric between my fingers, thinking about how good it looks on him—

Creeeeeeeeeeak

I sit up, snapping my gaze to the door beside me. A tall boy with an Iron Maiden band tee and red gym shorts holds onto the door frame.

“Don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, just get in the fucking car.” 

No. Way. He actually came. 

I mentally pinch myself, looking over him once more, to make sure I’m not hallucinating. I’m not, so I silently agree to his terms and trot over to him, grabbing the jacket and bag on my way out. Gracefully, I slip my arms inside, anticipating the cold that awaits me. The breeze brushes onto my cheeks, flushing them immediately. 

Pulled up on the side of the road, centered to the path we walk down, is a car I’ve never seen before. My brother has a license, but he much prefers to take the buses. He says it makes him feel like he’s in a coming-of-age movie; he syncs up his steps to the beat of the music that plays through his Walkman. 

The vehicle isn’t particularly junkie, a few dings and scratches graze the doors. It’s a deep maroon color, one we both have talked about adoring, and a convertible hood. He makes sure to keep a safe distance between the two of us, taking longer and quicker steps when he feels like I’m getting too close. I feel like I’m following a stray cat for the chance to pet it. The short walk to the car felt like several dozen kilometers. Ellis swings the passenger door open and, without looking back or holding it for me, walks in front of the car to pass over to the driver's side door.  

Chapter 4

“London”

_________

Previously…

“S’alright. I’ve got you.”

_________

The dinner table was awfully quiet. Forks scrape against the glass plates, picking up the mashed potatoes that sit next to the green beans and ham. The meal was crafted by Joan, who makes her food notoriously bland. You know how you can usually taste when love is put into a meal? She can’t even put that into the flavour. My father’s energy looms over the entire table as he sits at the end; he’s like a pressure cooker. But you never know when he’ll blow up. My mother sits to his left, eating with tight shoulders. She looks like when you sit on the tube, and you’re sandwiched between two people while still trying to keep your own personal space. 

Though she made the dish, Joan doesn’t touch her plate. She sits directly across from my dad, causing a line of tension to form from one end of the table to the other.

“What’s wrong with you?” My dad says between obnoxious chews.

“Just not hungry.” She puts her fingers on the edge of the white rim, pushing her plate towards the centre of the table. This interests my father, he puts down his fork and throws his hands in the air dramatically.

“What for?” His tone is light but authoritative. He’s unusually jolly as of right now. I wonder who pulled the stick from his ass. Joan just shrugs and forces a smile. “Big lunch,” she replies matter-of-factly.

“Right then”, he comments, a tight smile on his face. He turns to face my direction. I’m next to him on the right. “Good day at school?” I nod and grin. 

“Ya, actually. One of my friends offered Sarah and me tickets to that big festival in a few months.” Joan’s ears prick up, her head slowly turning to me in suspicion. 

“How’d they get those? Can ye get me in,” He asks jokingly, winking and poking me with his elbow. I only inherited two traits from my father, my green eyes and his love of music. Though, he doesn’t like much new stuff. He thinks it's all shite. He really loves Led Zeppelin, they’re his favourite, I think.

“He’s in one of the bands playing, gets a few plus ones. Backstage passes, too i think, pretty cool.” I hope he doesn’t ask any further. If he found out it was Liam, I think I would be dead meat. Ever since Ellis was found stoned with the Gallaghers, he hasn't had quite a very good image of the brothers. “Well, that’s wonderful. Love a good tune. I went to a few shows in my day.” A bit of silence settles; luckily, he doesn’t seem to care deeply enough to push any further. We all continue to eat, Cathy plays with her portion, wrist deep in butter and mash, mumbling dialogue from one green bean to the other.  

“Which one?” Joan pipes in. I lock my eyes with hers, she gives me a shit-eating smile and rests her face in her hand. She waits for my answer, and I ignore her. She repeats herself, “Which band?”

“Not sure.” I simply state, “not anyone you’d know, I’m sure.”

“Funny… could’ve sworn I saw you talking to that Liam kid. He’s in Oasis, I’ve heard.” She watches my face closely, “ I know they’re playing. Saw it on the poster,” She corks her head to the side slightly, blinking intensely.

“Nah, can’t be him. Our girl doesn’t hang ‘round with boys like that. Right?” My mother brushes off Joan’s interrogation. “Right…?”

“No, ya, course not. I’ve never even talked to him, I don’t think. He doesn’t show up to school enough.” I focus on the food in front of me, poking around with my fork without reason. Please god, if you’re real, you’d shut them all up. 

“Must not be a child of the lord, if he were he’d be at school every day of the week.” She speaks like she’s teaching a lesson, “ought to be like that when you reach your sister’s year,” She says trying to catch little Cathy’s attention, “or god will punish yeh.” 

“But he was there today.” I whip my head back to my sister.

“How would you even know if he was? You don’t even go to school anymore, you twat.” I catch my own attitude and cover my mouth. My mother looks enraged, so I pull out my rosary from the pocket of my uniform’s skirt and pray.

“Huh, struck a nerve, did I?” Joan adds.

“Right, that’s enough.” My father ends the conversation for us with no hesitation. A slight rage paints his voice, but he turns it off quickly to talk to the youngest at the table. “Make any new friends today, Cathy?” My dad says, addressing the small girl between my sister and me. This starts a ramble session that spans the rest of dinner, she’s at that age where she doesn’t shut up if you get her started. Something about space and Madonna, not sure how they correlate or how Madonna came up in her age group, but I’m not listening at full attention. While Cathy goes on, I try to telepathically communicate with Joan. I put down my rosary after my mom shifts her attention off of me.

When did you see me talk to him? I ask with my eyes.

 She simply shrugs. 

You cunt.

 She lets out a small huff from her nose.

 Are you laughing at me? 

Joan gets up and starts collecting everyone’s plates. “Thank you,” I say, slightly agitated. 

“You know, I do have an announcement.” My mother can hardly contain her joy, her cheeks rosy. My father puts a hand on her shoulder and copies her expression.

“Another baby?” Joan says, sarcastically, sitting back down at her seat.

“No, darling,” She continues, “god hasn’t blessed us like that for a while. I hope he doesn’t.” She makes the sign of the cross with her hands, as if she had just entered the church. “We will be going on a family trip.” My sisters and I shoot glances at each other. Even Cathy is stunned. Suddenly, Joan and I end whatever beef we had started before, instead sharing our confusion. 

“Without—“ Cathy starts, and I know exactly what she’ll say. Without Ellis? So I cover her mouth. 

“To where, when?” I lean closer to my parents while Cathy tries to break free from my hand. She licks my palm, “Ewwuh.” I pull my arm close to myself and start to brush her saliva off on my napkin.

“Well, we were thinking about another staycation in London,” she looks at Cathy, “but now that you’re older, we can go to all those places like uhm… the museum!” The confusion continues. This is truly out of nowhere. My dad works out in London a lot of the time, so I don’t know why he’s so excited about this trip. He sits in his chair looking giddy. Nothing he hasn’t seen before in the city.

“Nah, there must be something else…” Joan crosses her arms and lies back in her seat. The air gets cold as the A/C kicks on. The lighting is dim as the sun continues to fall out of view. My father takes a long breath in and on his exhale says,

“And we’ll be house hunting.” 

My eyes go wide, and my mouth falls open, “Scuse me???” My mum looks a bit sheepish now, “What about my graduation. And all my friends?” She’s silent, “I have those, you know!” 

Joan hides her face in her hands. “Mam I literally just got a job.” Joan’s passion is literature, and she has just applied to be a library assistant. They loved her so much that after about ten minutes of discussion, she was hired on the spot.

“Ah, well, maybe you can ask your dear dad here for a position?” She takes her hand and rubs it on my father's back. Joan peeks out from behind her fingers to see Dad’s toothy grin and rolls her eyes. “And we’re moving a week after you graduate, so don’t worry too much, yeah?” I push off from the table and grab my Converse at the door, slipping them on. 

“I’m gone for a walk. I’ll be back.” No one says a word; they all just watch me leave. This time I remembered my keys, which I had hung on the left side of the shoe rack when I first came home.  I grab my backpack from beside the door, I need to get out my thoughts and finish my homework somewhere that’s not here. Where I don’t have to think about any of this. 

_________

FLASHBACK (three years earlier)

“Where are you going?” Joan says, sitting on the couch with a book. It’s a lazy summer day, and Ellis had invited me to hang out with his friends this morning. I had recently started getting more into the bands he liked, and this excited him. He promised to take me to the CD store and buy me whatever album I wanted, or rather that he wanted me to listen to and I thought looked cool.

“I'm going out with El and all his friends!” Joan looks stunned and then a little peeved. “Why, why, what’s wrong?” I sumble out. 

“It’s just… no, it’s ok, it’s nothing.” She wants me to pry, I can feel it. “No, tell me!” I demand. She sits up, and doggy ears the corner of the page she was on. “It’s just that we were meant to hang out. He must have forgotten. That’s ok. You have fun.” And with that, she storms upstairs. 

“Oh, I’m.. I’m sorry,” I say as she passes. I feel terrible. I had no clue, Ellis said he would be free today, but I guess not. Despite being twins, Joan and Ellis have never been too close. They just don’t have much in common, she’s much more of a books and classical art kind of gal. He’s deep into hardcore and rock music, rarely picking up even a magazine to read. Joan tries her best, though. There’s this other set of twins in her year at school, and they’re inseparable. I think maybe she’s jealous of them. Ellis brushed past Joan on his way down the stairs, smiling wide at her. She ignored him.

“Sorry, almost forgot my bass. Just had to grab it. Go on,” he says as he opens the front door, holding it for me. “Are you sure, Joan said you were gonna hang out,” he paused and thought for a second.

“Did I say that?” He shrugged and motioned for me to go forward, “don’t worry, I’ll just hang with her when I get home or summat.” 

_________

The doors are always unlocked, but the only thing about going to the church this late is that sometimes the wired fence is out front. It’s one of those that pushes off to the side when you unhook the padlock, but I don’t have a key. 

Though it’s taller than I am, I’ve grown accustomed to climbing it. I’d usually be worried about my uniform, but I just really need quiet desperatley. The metal is sharp in a cold way against my skin, I quickly remove my hand and warm it with my breath before making contact again. I pray to god that no one walks by and looks up my skirt while I scale this thing.

I place my foot into one of the gaps and begin to hoist myself. 

“You need a boost?” I look down past my shoulder to see Liam casually standing behind me. He’s got his school bag on still, and he’s got his arms in his jacket pockets as he looks up at me. Obviously my prayer didn’t work. I become hyper-aware of the slight breeze being mustered up in the air and look down at my skirt to make sure its still covering me.

“Nah, I think I’ve got it.” He laughs and starts climbing up beside me. I pause and watch him. He’s much quicker than I am. 

Show off.

Halfway, he throws his backpack that he’d been carrying over the edge. And hops over and down, landing with virtually no noise at all, “what an ass you are.” I comment to him, which makes him chuckle a bit. I slowly make it to the top and swing my legs over. I never get used to this part. The getting up is easy, it’s just the hopping down that freaks me out a wee bit. Liam can see the fear radiating off of me, and immediately lends his arms up to me. 

“I’m not gonna fall, you know, I do this all the time.” I speak with false confidence.

“Well, I just thought I’d be gentlemanly, me.” He smiles widely and keeps his arms up. “But if you don’t want my help, I’ll just call the ambulance when you fall I reckon.” I reluctantly reach down to place my hands on his shoulders; almost falling completely forward on accident. He catches and envelops his arms around me. My hips are level with his shoulders, and his arms are wrapped tightly around my upper thighs. My legs are straight as I anticipate the floor while he lowers me. His warmth is ripped away as he gently places me down, turns from me as he picks up his bag, and starts to walk towards the door. I think I’ll crave for that warmth for the rest of time.

“Why are you here?” I ask as he pushes the doors open.

“Because I knew this is where I’d find you.”

_________

Liam holds the door and then follows me in, setting his bag down on the pew he had sat on the last time he had joined me. I stay behind, getting a dab of holy water from the fountain by the entrance and applying it to myself, setting my bag down at the entrance. He unzips it quickly and pulls out a note. 

“There’s the address and all that, you’ll have to give me your name and phone number to be let in backstage, though,” He hands it over to me, holding the slip like a ciggarette between his pointer and middle finger. I form an inquisitive look, “Name and number?” 

“Ya,” he starts, “Name for them at the door, and number for me so I can call you.”

“Call me for what?” I snatch the note.

“Whatever I want to.” This makes me scoff, I stare at him unamused. His face doesn’t change, still neutral. After a second, I face my palm towards the ceiling and make a grabby give me a pen motion. He reaches into the waterbottle pocket on the side and pulls out a ballpoint pen that I recognize from the front office of my school. He must've stolen it. He hands it to me, smiling like he just got a kiss from Pamela Anderson. I rip off a piece from the paper he’d given to me, writing my full name and number between the lines. I pride myself in having perfect cursive writing, what my sister Joan calls “Founding Father Scribe” She always says, “you look like you’re going to leave England to go be a yankee with that handwriting,” 

“You can read cursive right?” I go to hand it back to him, he opens his hand for me to place the paper into. “Can I– Can I read–?” He gets pissy, “Yes I can read fokin cursive you knobhead.” I laugh to myself as he mutters some other manchunian grievances under his breath and stuffs my number into his pockets. I sigh and take a seat next to his backpack, lifting my legs to rest my feet against the back of the pew in front of me.

“Funny, was actually here earlier,” Liam moves the bag to the floor, taking its place next to me. “What for?”  for some reason I feel embarrassed, “confession.”

Liam’s eyes go big, “You? Confession? What’s there to confess? I accidently used my sister’s toothpaste?” He teases, “Little miss goody two shoes.” I let out an annoyed noise, “Uhm excuse me, it’s private what I confess about. I will not be sharing with the class,” I cross my arms, “especially to someone like you.” Liam takes in a dramatic breath, “What’s that meant to mean you wanker?” He shoves me lightly and I giggle. When his hand makes contact with my shoulder I can feel how controlled his force is, trying to be gentle.

“It’s important to me,” I look down at my hands, which I place in my lap. When I look at Liam, he’s looking at my hands too. “Don’t look at my nails, the polish is all chipped.” I close my fists so he can’t see. “What shade is that,” he asks, ”blood of christ?” ya real nice one buddy. “No it’s Not Really a Waitress by OPI.” he nods his head, as if to take a mental note and then goes quiet once again. 

The silence simmers for a bit. I can hear our breaths as the only sound that fills the room. The only light being let in is one from the crack in the door and the dim hue from the stained glass. Unlike the previous night, there were no candles. I wished that I could see him under that light once again, the way the amber light danced wildly through his pale blue eyes. 

“So how does it go then?” His question pulls me out of my trance, and I realize that we had been making eye contact the whole time, though his gaze had landed somewhere lower on my face for a second. 

“How does what go?” 

“Confession.” 

I huff out a breath as I search for the words to describe the strange phenomenon. “Uhm, depends on where you are. Some places are a room, some are a box. We have both here,” I motion to the area in the far right corner of the front of the room, “then you say a few prayers and tell father your sins.” Liam looks offput.

“Then what?” he sits back, resting his legs the same way mine are.  

“You get on your knees and pray whatever father tells you to. He like, prescribes you a certain amount of hail marys and all that,” I laugh slightly, realizing how ridiculous I sound.

“So you like getting on your knees for men while they tell you what to do?” my face drops and suddenly I hear footsteps on the concrete outside the church door.

Chapter 3

“Ticket to Ride”

_________

Previously…

“Yes, Catherine.. We can pray.”

_________

The day was long and strenuous. Being the overachiever I am, I’ve placed myself in the highest level courses I possibly could. Therefore, the workload is heavy and detailed. Not difficult, I wouldn't say that. Just meticulous. Nothing, however, was as heavy as the thought that I would have to go home to my father today. He’d been out for about a week, leaving my mother to fend for herself. I’m not quite sure what he does, something to do with managing. Whatever it is, it makes him angry. Usually, when he’s home, I try my best to stay out of his way. I would go out with Ellis most of the time, but I guess that really isn’t an option right now. I wonder what it is that made him so upset. I hope he’s doing okay.

The school bell goes off, and a stampede of teenagers pushes me out of the classroom like a boat on rough waters. In the thick air of the hallway, Liam somehow finds me. 

“Right, so what you doin’ March 5th?” I whip my head to face him.

“You talking to me?” I point to myself in disbelief. He just looks at me with his same tired eyes. They look a bit more exhausted than usual. I’m sure it has something to do with his late night mixed with an early morning. 

“Ya. Just got a festival, had an extra ticket I thought you could ‘ave.” My brow knots in confusion. But before I can answer, I get a tap on my shoulder from a smiley girl to my left, 

“Who’s tha’?”

Sarah is my best friend, though she’s also very nosy. She’s just gotten back from a trip to America. Her parents are well off; they have a timeshare, whatever that is, in Hawaii. This all means that she’s missed a lot, and her chronic fomo is killing her.

“Is that your boyfriend? I thought you weren’t allowed to have one of tho–” I shoot her a glare that could cut through metal, which shuts her up quickly. At this point, the three of us have made it to the bus stop. 

“Nah, just Liam.” He extends his hand in a polite gesture. Sarah looks flushed and immediately takes his hand in hers. 

“You said something about a festival? You have an extra ticket for your favorite gal?” Sarah bats her blonde lashes my way. She’s the perfect image of beauty, she has kind eyes that shine hazel-green and almost platinum hair. 

“I don’t know, do you?” I turn to Liam, Sarah hanging off my shoulder, gazing at him.

“That could be sorted, I reckon…” He taps his face methodically. “I’ll ask the guys if they’re willing to give one of their plus ones up, yeah?” Sarah and I lock in on each other as the corners of our mouths raise. I hit her arm with the back of my hand, and we both drop into neutrality. 

“Sure… ya… s’cool.” we reply. I break a bit from my chilled-out facade and giggle, “Just write down the address and all that, ya? We’ll be there.”

“What’s the band's name?” Sarah questions, “You famous yet?”

“Oasis. We’re the greatest band in the world, the world just don’t know it yet.” The same crappy car from last night pulls up behind the school bus, both arriving at the same time. In the driver's seat is Bonehead, “This is the last time I pick you up, mate. Me dad’s taking the car back tomorrow.”

“Bobbins.” And with that, Liam gets into the back of the beat-up buggy, leaving Sarah and me in the dust.

“Your friend’s kind of cute… mind if I steal him?” I sigh dramatically, then we begin loading into the back of the bus. “I mean ya, but you would be sharing with every other girl in Manchester, I’m sure.” I take a pause, “Maybe some birds in London, too.”

“Oh, he’s that type, is he?” I nod. “You going to confession hours today, love?” Shite. I forgot my journal at home. It had everything I was going to say to Father Makenzie inside. When I get in the box, all the thoughts in my head are nowt, so I refer to my notes to remember everything I did wrong this week. 

I have a lot to say, just in the last two days.

“Hell, I forgot my booklet.” Sarah goes into her backpack, tearing a page out of her pretty pink notebook. The margins have hearts, and the paper is scented with strawberry. “Here you can just use a page of mine!” She finds a pen in her bag and hands it over to me. It’s one of those that, when you turn it upside down, glitter and charms spin down the barrel.

“Don’t look, alright?” I grab the page. Sarah laughs and brushes me off, “Trust me, I would never. You have no clue what I say in my confessions.” I skew myself in my seat, we’re sitting in the back of the bus, and I’m up against the window. I prop my knee on the seat so I can have a solid surface to write.

SINS:

Lustful thinking, swearing, not obeying my mother…

I finish writing a rather lengthy list, fold up the paper, and stuff it in my jacket pocket. The scent leaks out and hits my senses. If I do this again, I might Pavlov dog myself into feeling guilty when I smell strawberries. 

As we ride down to the church, I see someone I recognize on the side of the road. My brother’s girlfriend, Willow, is sitting and reading on a park bench. She’s wearing a baggy sweat set and looks rather focused. 

“I think I’m going to get off at this stop, I just want to walk the extra block. Get my steps in and allat.” I get up and make my way to the front, shooting a thank you to the driver and starting a short journey to the bench. As soon as she sees me, Willow hides the cover of her book in her lap. Only the back of the book, showing the author and a short blurb along with reviews, peeks out between her hands.

“Oh um… Hi. How are you today?” Willow says, mechanically. Like she didn’t really care about whatever answer I was about to give.

“I’m okay… things have been better. But, I just scored Sarah and I got free tickets to that festival in a few months” I smile, trying to peek at her reading. “You?” 

“Just an okay morning I suppose…” I sink into myself, she clearly doesn’t want to talk to me.

“I just had a question for you,” Her shoulders stiffen, “I haven’t seen Ellis in a while, and I tried to call him–” Willow starts to gather her things in a tote bag beside her, slipping a water bottle inside. She’s rushing to get away from me.“Do you know why he’s left?” Her breath hitches and her eyes grow a tad wider, she rips herself from me. 

“I’ve got to go.” She pats her hand on mine, a quick comforting gesture. Her hand reveals part of the back cover of her book, which she then hides in her bag.

“Amazing parenting book for expectant mothers, 5 stars… ‘Times Magazine’”

_________

LIAMS PERSPECIVE

“You’re all bout to be out 15 pound.” Bonehead quirks his head, still keeping his eyes on the road.

“What makes you say that?” His eyebrow raises, I cross my arms with pride.

“Got her and her friend to come to the show, maybe we should double the bet. I’ll make out with her friend too. She’s fit.” Bonehead rolls his eyes and groans an “oh my god” under his breath.

“Don’t cause too much shite.” He goes silent for a split second. ‘You know, I was thinking about it, and maybe—“ 

“Nah we’re not calling it off” 

“Right.” 

Bonehead sighs, the grey landscape rolling past us. We’ll be out of this grim town soon enough, it might take a little but i believe in it.

We get to Ellis’ place and file out of the car, gathering some equipment from the back seat. The front door creaks, Guigs holds it open to make bringing everything in a tad easier. Nice kid. 

“Have they finally got here?” Tony yells out from inside, meeting us when we get to the living room. Having space to rehearse is nice, now that it’s not in the blistering heat of a garage. Ellis had agreed to let us play here ever since he moved out of his place. “What took you so long?” Tony pats me on the back while I walk by, carrying a new guitar pedal.

“I went to school today.” The room, previously buzzing with conversation from the other boys, abruptly ends. 

“You what?” Noel pipes in.

“I know.” Bonehead says, placing down an amp.

“I bet it was to see the girl, wasn’t it.” Noel adds.

“What girl?” Ellis comes in from a smoke break outside, the smell of cheap tobacco follows him in. “You got a little girlfriend, Liam?” He looks amused and stuffs a snuffed out half smoked cigarette behind his ear.

“It’s nothing. They’re just talking shite.” I shut down the conversation, focusing on getting everything plugged in.

_________

YOUR PERSPECIVE

Confession was met with a bit of a side eye, you can always tell when that’s the case. No matter how much Father Makenzie goes on about the “judgement free zone” I know that he’s silently condemning my every action. Maybe I should stop going, I wonder if he’d notice. 

I’m sure he would, though. He would probably be sad about it, since I’m sure he’d be losing out on the extra gossip time he could be having with god about my life. Telling him all my secrets. Fucking loud mouth he is.

Sarah couldn’t hang out after, so I took the bus back home. I cursed whatever plans she had, probably something sweet like dog sitting, and opened my front door. My father is sitting in his chair as usual, scanning a newspaper. Beside him is a glass of water and a beer. Got to have the best of both worlds I suppose. I try to sneak past without him noticing, but his chair faces the door at an angle, so he has a straight shot of me. 

“Teacher tells me you’ve been rolling up your skirt.” His eyes are trained on the TV screen, playing some type of comedy special. An audience’s laugh track leaks into the air.

“Uhm. Not true. That's utter shite.” My fathers eyes glaze over and meet mine. “I mean, I haven’t.” I turn and quickly remove my mary janes. 

“Well then why would they say that?” while I’m turned around, I roll my eyes. I don’t know dad, they must be blind. I wish I could say.

“I think it’s just that I’ve gotten taller. Just a trick of the eye s’all.” My voice is quiet and sheepish. I feel like a cat backed into a corner, my father holding a metaphorical bucket of water over my head.

“Right. Well I better not hear much more about that, understand?” I’m impressed, he seems in a better mood. Usually he would break out with much more anger. Perhaps he’s saving it for later. “Yes, sir.” I bow my head slightly and head up the stairs. When I get to the hallway, I see Joan’s door ajar. I peek in to see her sitting on the edge of her pink-sheeted bed by the phone. She hangs up the oddly shaped receiver, she had saved up for one of those kitschy phones that look like a pair of lips. After she bought it, I mentally added it to my Christmas list. After the click, she began staring blankly at the wall, covered in movie posters. 

“Y’alright?” I knock on the frame to alert her of my presence.

“Ya. Just a fuck up.” She gets up, running her hands down her face. “S’nothing really. Don’t ask.” I wondered if maybe it was one of those moments when someone says don’t ask but they really mean look at me look at me!!! Ask what’s wrong!! But by the look on her face, I knew that wasn’t the case. She walks over to the door, shutting it in my face. 

Rude. That's okay. I have CDs to listen to on my own anyways. I didn't want to talk to my dear sister and tell her about my day or anything. I spin on my heels and head into my room. Shutting the door angrily behind me. I can hear the garage rattle beneath my feet. My mom must have just gotten home from work, she picks up my little sister on the way, so I lock my door. I love her, but I don’t want her bothering me. 

I mosey over to my cd player, beneath it is a stack of discs. I pick “Bridge Over Troubled Water” and lay down on top of my sheets, not bothering to change before I close my eyes and begin to think about my day. The image of the book in Willow’s lap crosses my mind. 

“Amazing parenting book for expectant mothers, 5 stars… ‘Times Magazine’”

Maybe I read it wrong. Perhaps it said:

“Amazing preaching book for making excellent monks, 5 stars… ‘Times Magazine’”

Maybe she’s having a change in lifestyle. 

I doze off…

_________

DREAM

I look around, I’m in a crowded record store. It’s like bumper to bumper traffic with human bodies. There's no music I recognize anywhere around me. I try to sift through some vinyls, but can’t seem to move against the grain of the customers. Everyone seemed so familiar, but they were all missing features that would allow me to place them in my memory.

The store has multiple floors, as seen by a poster on the wall showing every floor that I can see over everyone’s heads if I go on my tip toes. It’s labeled with nonsensical genres and artists, but the 5th floor shows a name I know. 

Oasis

“The elevators are broken, you have to take the stairs,” a woman holds my left shoulder, looming behind me. She has long curled brown hair and her face is blurry, but comforting. She sounds like someone I once knew, but I’m not sure who.

“I’ve never been here before, where are the stairs?” The woman points to a wall, which has no stairs by the way. Very helpful, thanks girl. “Right…” I shrug off her hand and make my way over to the wall, a ringing in my ears grow louder the closer I get. I look behind me, everyone watches my careful steps. Some laugh, whisper, and some are completely silent. I turn back around and ram into a scruffy teenage boy with striking baby blue eyes. Liam. 

Unlike anyone else in the dream so far, I know who he is immediately.

“You lost?” He looks down at me, “Thought you were smarter than that.” He holds out his hand, I take it quickly. We are transported to a long hallway, images of my family line the walls. However, the images are all missing me. Liam and I arrive at two doors. “It’s one of these ones to the stairwell, I dunno which one though.” He drops my hand and nods his head for me to try a door, placing his hands in the pockets of his deep blue jacket.

One is on the left, bright red with a golden knob. I can hear someone talking inside, the tone is serious. The other is on the right, dark green metal, with a long handle that you have to push to open. A dead lamb on the floor lays beside it, bleating and leaking blood. I step back, alarmed at the scene. I assume the way to the stairs is the green one, it seems more industrial stairwell-like, but the lamb detours me from stepping any closer. So instead, push open the cherry colored wood.

 It’s my kitchen, all the lights are off but a dim lamp in the center of the table. It projects a warm hue onto the people sitting round the square table. My mother and father sit facing me. They have almost cartoonishly disappointing expressions. Ellis and Willow sit parallel to them, backs turned to me. It’s too quiet. All too quiet. Joan stands in the corner, hiding in the shadows. Ellis stares at her, while my parents glare at him.

She raises her arm slowly, pointing straight at me. My brother slowly pivots to see who she’s pointing at. Tears running down his porcelain skin, Willow hides her face in her hands. She cries almost silently.

I get pulled back aggressively, the door slamming in front of me with no sound. “Not that one, try the other one,” Liam takes my hand again, the sheep from before is now still, its soul is no longer here. A pool of blood making a reflection below it.

“But the lamb…” Liam squeezes my hand slightly and gives me a smile. “S’alright. I’ve got you.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

_________